


...and I'd always listen

by Frenchibi



Series: Haikyuu drabbles [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, I'll add more as I go, I'll be adding other pairings too if I get requests, M/M, Rating may vary, Send me stuff!, Warnings in the notes before each chapter, prompt collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:32:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 27,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6286657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frenchibi/pseuds/Frenchibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of unrelated IwaOi (and possibly other) drabbles/short stories based off an assortment of prompts and requests, contains fluff and angst and possibly maybe a character death at some point (who am I kidding, I am too weak for that), I'll tag accordingly in the notes before each chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. IWAOI At 1 am

**Author's Note:**

> Hooray for prompts! And hooray for having no idea what I'm doing, actually. I'll try to update these as often as possible, I wanted to challenge myself to write something every day (the only question is, will I be satisfied enough to POST something every day? WHO KNOWS?)  
> Wellp, here's the first one, anyway. Enjoy~  
> Prompt from: "Things you said"

Something is wrong.

Iwaizumi has known Oikawa long enough to know that that isn’t a good thing, so when he notices the setter is a little off during practice (and of course he notices), he sighs to himself quietly. He knows what that means – trouble, and there’s no telling yet if all Oikawa needs is a hug and a shitty alien movie or a full-blown “talk about your feelings” therapy session.

Not that he won’t give him exactly what he needs, though, like he does every time.

Sometimes Iwaizumi wishes he’d picked a different friend all those years ago – but then he thinks about it, and he wouldn’t go back and change anything if his life depended on it. Yeah, Oikawa is a pain in the ass, a gigantic one. But he’s also a whole load of other things, including bright, brilliant, hilarious, hard-working and loyal, all of which Iwaizumi is very thankful for and proud of.

So he exhales, drops the last of the volleyballs into the cart and walks over to where Oikawa is standing.

“You okay?” he asks, as nonchalantly as possible.

Oikawa raises his eyebrows. “Sure, Iwa-chan. Why wouldn’t I be?”

But Iwaizumi catches the tiny signals, the little jerk of his head, the twitch in his fingers around his water bottle, and his eyes that dart away after holding contact for more than a few seconds.

“Wanna come over today?”

Oikawa blinks, caught off guard a little. And he notices the determined set of Iwaizumi’s shoulders, the way his muscles clench and his eyebrows are drawn together just a fraction more than usual.

He deflates a little, evidently realizing that he’s been seen through.

“Sure,” he says, making an effort to sound cheery that would convince anyone else on the team listening in, but never the person he’d said it to.

Iwaizumi nods, clapping his hand against the setter’s shoulder.

“Alright. Let’s get changed then,” he says, and lets his hand linger just a little longer than necessary. Oikawa notices, and gives him a small, exhausted smile – which is taken over almost instantly by the one he’s practiced, the cocky, seemingly effortless one that he gives everyone.

“Yessir,” he says, and follows him out of the gym.

 ~~~

In the changing room, Oikawa mocks some of the second-years and takes a smack over the head from Hanamaki’s shirt, which he laughs off cheerily, but as soon as the door shuts behind them and they’re alone he drops the act. He’s quiet now as they walk side by side, and Iwaizumi knows better than to push him. He stares ahead, as though nothing is wrong, because he knows Oikawa will open up eventually.

Sure enough, as they get closer to Iwaizumi’s house, Oikawa slows and reaches out to hold on to his friend’s sleeve.

Iwaizumi makes a small inquisitive sound, but Oikawa shakes his head. Iwaizumi sighs at him in an “it can’t be helped” kind of way and reaches out to ruffle through the setter’s hair. Oikawa huffs indignantly, but the sadness on his face is briefly broken by a small smile. Iwaizumi takes it as the good sign that it is – he’s still testing the waters, assessing the damage. It might not be as bad as he’d dreaded.

~~~

“Talk to me,” he says, dropping his bag on his chair after closing the door behind them. Oikawa sinks onto Iwaizumi’s bed, hands in his lap, looking down.

Iwaizumi sighs for what feels like the twentieth time that day and rubs a hand over his eyes.

“Want to watch something?”

Oikawa bites his lip, then nods slowly. Iwaizumi grabs his laptop off the table and gestures to Oikawa to scoot over and make room for him. Oikawa obliges, backing up against the wall and propping some pillows up for them to lean against.

Iwaizumi joins him, and it takes Oikawa .4 seconds to flop sideways and against him, resting his head on his shoulder.

Fair enough. _He'll talk eventually_ , Iwaizumi thinks, and he leaves it at that, leaning forward awkwardly and trying not to disrupt Oikawa as he opens up Netflix. It might be a long night.

~~~ 

“Do you think we’ll win?” Oikawa asks quietly. Iwaizumi looks down at him, his fingers hesitating as they’re brushing through the setter’s hair, who is now practically lying on his lap. Iwaizumi turns away from the movie softly playing in the background and focuses his attention on Oikawa.

“The tournament?”

“Well, yeah. Against Ushijima – and Tobio-chan, too.”

“The team trusts you. If you say we’ll win, we’ll win.”

Oikawa turns just so he can pout at him. “That’s not what I asked!”

“I’m part of the team, dumbass. It doesn’t matter if I believe we’ll win. I believe in you.” He flicks Oikawa’s forehead lightly. Oikawa makes a show of pulling a face at him, but then he closes his eyes and readjusts his position on Iwaizumi’s lap.

~~~

It's not until much later, until they've put away the laptop, turned off the lights and slipped under the covers - together, as always, because that's just how it will always be between them - that Oikawa finally talks.

“Iwa-chan is always saving me,” he says quietly, wrapping his arms more tightly around his friend.

Iwaizumi grunts in response, exhaling deeply into the setter’s shoulder as he relaxes.

“You probably have like… a sixth sense, or something. That’s why you always notice when something’s bothering me.”

Iwaizumi chuckles softly at that. “Sure, sure.”

They’re silent for a moment, and Iwaizumi feels himself almost slipping into sleep already – Oikawa’s presence makes him feel safe, warm, and he’s drifting off, almost gone-

“Iwa-chan?”

He starts a little.

“Yeah?”

There’s a tension coming from Oikawa, maybe.

“… do you love me, Iwa-chan?”

He’s caught off guard, opening his eyes even though there’s no way he can see Oikawa’s expression in the positing they’re in. He pulls back, maybe a little too quickly, just in time to see the setter hide behind his hands.

“Hey-“

“Don’t look at me, Iwa-chan – just answer the question!”

Iwaizumi sighs. He takes a second, then decides he doesn’t care.

“Of course I do, dumbass.” And he reaches up and pulls Oikawa’s hands away from his face. “You love me too, don’t you?”

Oikawa is blushing, but there’s a frown on his face.

“Iwa-chan, you don’t understand-“

“Oh, I do. Maybe you don’t.”

Oikawa looks confused, then his eyes widen.

“Eeh, are you sure, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes at him. Always with the exaggeration. “I’m not an idiot. Now shut up already.”

Oikawa squirms a little, still evidently dissatisfied.

“I know Iwa-chan loves me as his best friend, but-“

“You really wanna do this right now?”

Iwaizumi knows that being defensive isn’t going to help him now, he won’t be able to avoid this conversation. It’s just that it’s late, and he’s kind of afraid of the outcome.

What he doesn’t expect is Oikawa pulling back and going strangely quiet.

“Never mind, Iwa-chan.”

And then he does it again, pulls out that wide fake smile that he’s practiced so well, and starts to turn away.

“Oi!”

Iwaizumi grabs his shoulder and turns him back around so he’s forced to face him. “Don’t fucking do that.”

“Do what?”

“Give me that stupid grimace of yours. It’s not real and we both know it. Stop hiding from me.”

Oikawa frowns.

“I’m not-“

“Don’t fucking lie to me. I _know_ you.”

Oikawa’s voice is twisted in a strange way as he says: “You don’t know everything, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi huffs out a breath. “Of course I do. Who do you take me for?”

“Oh yeah? I bet there’s at least one thing you don’t know. Because I never told you.”

He's almost pouting again. Iwaizumi holds back a sigh, but he doesn't back down.

“…you think you telling me things is the only source of my information?”

“I never told anyone. You can’t know.”

“Try me.”

“No way. If I told you, that’d wreck the whole point, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi exhales, so tired of this pointless back and forth. They’re always playing games, the two of them, and he’s sick of it.

“If this is about why you’ve been so weird around me lately, I already know.”

Oikawa blinks.

“Weird? I’m not-“

“Oh please. Drop your fucking act for one goddamn minute.”

“I don’t know what you’re-“

“I’m talking about this. Right now. You’re pretending because you’re hiding something. You’re pretending because you’re suddenly afraid I won’t like the real you anymore, what’s underneath. Because… you must have realized it, I guess.”

Oikawa is staring at him with a strange kind of defiance on his face.

“Realized what?”

“That there’s something you’d want to hide. You think something’s changed. Between you and me.”

Iwaizumi expects him to butt in, to deny anything, to make a stupid joke. He doesn’t, though. He just turns away from him and stares at the ceiling.

“Nothing gets past you, huh, Iwa-chan?”

“Damn right,” Iwaizumi mutters, grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him back around to face him. “And you’re gonna tell me why you’re treating me like I’m just some person you can fool with your stupid act. That’s never worked on me, why would you think it would now?”

Oikawa exhales, closing his eyes briefly. When he inhales again, he runs his hands over his face before meeting Iwaizumi’s gaze.

“I didn’t,” he says quietly. “I… was hoping you’d figure me out, I think. That you’d confront me.”

Iwaizumi clicks his tongue.

“You’re a coward, Tooru.”

Oikawa starts a little, not used to hearing his given name out of Iwaizumi’s mouth. Then he flinches ever so slightly. Seems Iwaizumi hit a nerve.

“…you’re really worried that there’s anything you could say that would make me push you away?”

Oikawa gives him an exasperated look, enhanced by the dark shadows on his face.

“There’s thousands of things I could say to make you hate me, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Tough luck. I already hate you, Shittykawa.”

Oikawa makes an offended noise, back into theatrics immediately. Iwaizumi sighs inwardly, and realizes he has to take the initiative if anything is ever going to happen. And honestly, right now all he wants is for Oikawa to stop moping around.

“I love you too, though. God knows why.”

Oikawa frowns. “You use the word ‘love’ far too lightly, Iwa-chan. Shouldn’t you reserve that for… your girlfriend or something?”

Iwaizumi has to resist the urge to reach forward and smack his forehead like he’d usually do when the setter starts getting ahead of himself.

“What girlfriend would that be, precisely? I keep losing track because I have so many. No, wait, that’s you.”

“I have never told any of those girls that I love them,” Oikawa huffs, and Iwaizumi swears he’s gone completely red, although it’s hard to tell in the dark. “I might have said I ‘like’ them, but I’d never use the word ‘love’.”

Iwaizumi laughs at this. “You use the word ‘love’ in every other sentence, you dunce. 'Oh, look, I LOVE this movie!' and 'I'd love to see Tobio-chan suffer!' - if there’s anyone who should be reprimanded for that, it’s definitely you. Besides… I meant what I said.”

Oikawa stares for a moment, finally at a loss for words. Iwaizumi takes the opportunity to do some staring of his own, noting the way Oikawa’s hair falls just short of his eyes – he should get it cut soon, otherwise it might become a hindrance in volleyball. He’s always noticing these things, somehow. Maybe because he’s not quite as inconspicuous as he'd have hoped.

“You… love me?”

Oikawa’s voice is so small and utterly broken, and it’s only then that Iwaizumi notices the liquid building up in the setter’s eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Like… like, in a… in a more than friends kind of way…?”

Oh, goodness, he really is blushing. Iwaizumi bites his lip at the sight.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Even though it took you ages to catch on, dumbass.”

After a second he adds, as an afterthought, “…and I know you do too. I think… I knew it before you even realized.”

Oikawa still hasn’t found words. He’s looking at Iwaizumi like he’s never seen him before.

“Surprised? Come on, Oikawa. I don’t need you to tell me that sort of thing, I can tell. Told you, I know you.”

“…can you read minds, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi chuckles softly. “Nah. Just yours. Granted, you’re good at hiding what you’re thinking. I’m just better at finding stuff.”

He exhales, then smiles over at the setter, who is still staring at him with wide eyes.

“Think you can stop worrying now? Concentrate on the important things, like the upcoming matches…?”

Oikawa reaches out, seemingly transfixed, and runs his fingers through Iwaizumi’s hair. The ace stiffens slightly at the touch, but lets it happen.

Oikawa just stares in awe.

“…Iwa-chan…?”

“Hm?”

“… I think I’ve loved you all my life,” he whispers, and his eyes are wide with realization.

“Yeah. Me too.”

There’s something in Oikawa’s eyes, something he can’t quite place.

“Is this real?” he asks, gaze jumping from Iwaizumi to random spots around the room. “Or am I… dreaming again?”  
Iwaizumi raises his hand and gives Oikawa’s forehead a flick.

“Wh- Ow! Iwa-chan, you’re so mea…n.”

He drifts off mid-word and turns back to stare at Iwaizumi, stunned.

“It’s real,” he says. Iwaizumi humors him.

“Yes.”

“…you… love me.”

He nods. “Yes.”

“And I… I love you, too.”

“I should hope so, yeah.”

“So… so if I wanted to kiss you-“

“I guess you could.”

And he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god this got so cheesy and awkward please kill me  
> Also it's not really short but whatever xD *throws hands up in submission* I am WEAK


	2. IWAOI Too quietly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You only say the important things when you think no one can hear you." - Prompt: "things you said too quietly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...who said I had to do these in order, right? Ha. (yeah no sorry, I wrote something for the actual second prompt but I didn't like it and then I had the urge to write this thing here - also it's better than nothing, right? I'll do the actual prompt number 2 some other time.)  
>  Also for some reason I felt compelled to add this lakehouse bit because I've been reading too many fics like that lately... and it's a lot more... artistic that the rest of this entire thing for some reason, I DON'T KNOW WHY THAT HAPPENED AND I'M SORRY

The first time Oikawa says the words, they’re fresh into middle school and he mumbles them into his muffler while they’re waiting at a stoplight. It could only have been more cliché if they’d been in a shoujo manga, at a railroad crossing, with cherry blossoms swirling around them, Oikawa thinks in retrospect.

He says the words just as an experiment, testing them out, seeing how they feel on his tongue.

_I’m in love with Iwa-chan._

The sound of passing cars drones out his voice easily, but Iwaizumi still turns to give him a quizzical frown.

“D’you say something?” he asks.

Oikawa shakes his head and smiles. “Nope. You must be hearing things, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and smacks the back of his head lightly with his palm. “Quit calling me that.”

~~~

The second time he says them, they’re on holiday together, at his parents’ lakehouse. It’s getting dark, but that hasn’t stopped them from pushing each other off the edge of the small wooden pier into the water. Their clothes are soaked, but it’s summer, and warm enough for neither of them to really care. They swim for a bit, and then they return to shallower water, standing and looking up at the sky.

And suddenly everything around them is still. The lake is bathed in the orange of the sunset, reflections dancing across the surface. Oikawa stands chest-deep in the water and watches Iwaizumi submerge himself completely, and shake the water from his hair as he resurfaces.

And it hits him, like it does so often these days, in the most mundane moments – when Iwaizumi picks him up in the morning, always a scowl on his face and his fingers itching to slap him over some dumb comment, for instance, or when their gazes meet across the table at lunch with Matsukawa and Hanamaki, and he can see the tiniest tug at the edge of Iwaizumi’s mouth, a minute, soft smile that no one else is meant to see, or when Iwaizumi drops in on him unexpectedly, a frown on his face as he asks if everything’s okay. It hits him like a small revelation every time, and he still can’t say it, still can’t make the words leave his mouth, but he loves him. He loves him so, so much.

And just the thought makes his chest ache and his heart beat harder, more painfully. Because it’s hopeless, isn’t it? You’re not supposed to feel this way about your best friend. You’re not supposed to want someone so much, to want everything and anything they give you, to want to hide them from the world so you can have them to yourself, but also to want to parade them around proudly, to show off that they’re yours.

But Iwaizumi isn’t his, is he? He probably never will be.

And Oikawa does his best to smile, to pout, to hide the pain. To keep the truth locked up tight.

_I really love you_ , he says quietly, in the direction of where Iwaizumi has just dived under again.

Nothing but the rippling water answers him.

~~~

The third time, it’s close to graduation and they’re in Oikawa’s room, spending the afternoon together, like they always do. Oikawa is lying on his bed, twirling a volleyball in his hands, while Iwaizumi sits on the floor at the foot of the bed, earphones in, studying. Oikawa knows he should, too, but he’s preoccupied and distracted by the ace’s presence. So he tosses the ball upwards aimlessly and catches it again. The dull thud against his fingers is the only sound in the room, aside from the occasional rustle of paper as Iwaizumi turns a page.

Oikawa tilts his head – he can make out half of Iwaizumi’s face from his current position. And the ace is so preoccupied with his book, Oikawa feels safe to marvel, to let his gaze explore Iwaizumi’s features.

After a couple of minutes, in which Oikawa’s imagination unhelpfully supplies him with a bunch of what-if-scenarios that involve running his fingers through Iwaizumi’s unruly hair and pushing their foreheads together until they’re so close they have to close their eyes, Iwaizumi suddenly turns his head to look back at him, snapping him right back into reality.

“Quit staring, you creep,” he says, but there’s no real force behind it.

Oikawa smiles and looks back up at the ceiling with a sigh.

Iwaizumi is still watching, though, and he quirks up an eyebrow in question, even pulling out one of his earphones so he can hear him better. “You okay? You’re awfully quiet.”

Oikawa makes a sound of mock-protest. “Make up your mind, Iwa-chan. D’you want me to talk, or do you wanna study?”

Iwaizumi clicks his tongue at him. “You never let me study. You never shut up about how bored you are.”

“I’m not bored now,” Oikawa says, shrugging.

“So you’re brooding. Great.”

“So mean, Iwa-chan.”

Now it’s Iwaizumi’s turn to frown, and he reaches up to swat at Oikawa’s legs without much force. “It’s in the job description, dumbass.”

He hesitates, then adds: “I’m almost done, okay?”

Oikawa gives him a short nod, and Iwaizumi seems satisfied. He returns his attention to his book, putting his earphones back in as well.

Oikawa glances down at him, before his gaze flits back to the ceiling. He lifts the ball up above his head and stares at it.

“I just wish-,” he says, his voice barely audible. He stops, chancing another glance towards his best friend. He doesn’t seem to have heard; he just sits there, unmoving, gaze fixed on the page open on his lap.

“I just wish I was braver,” Oikawa says. And after a moment, when Iwaizumi still doesn’t react, he throws caution to the wind. He’s been dying to say it out loud, to tell him, to show him, but he knows he probably never will, no matter how painful it is. Because this friendship is the most important thing he owns, and he is not losing it, not over anything.

But a man can hope. And imagine what it might be like.

“…I love you,” he whispers, just to hear how it sounds, just to know what it feels like to have those words suspended in the air around them.

He looks down – and a pair of green eyes stares back at him, bright and wide and alert.

Oikawa blushes, surprised – but Iwaizumi isn’t looking away. After a few excruciating seconds he pulls the earphones out and drops them unceremoniously onto his book, which he then pushes aside. His eyes never leave Oikawa.

The setter opens his mouth to speak, but he almost trips over the words.

“Are you all done, Iwa-”

“Is that true?” Iwaizumi interrupts. His expression is unreadable, but suddenly it feels serious.

“Huh?”

“What you just said. Is that true,” he repeats.

It’s not even really a question anymore.

Oikawa blinks. And then he feels more color rising to his cheeks because _it can’t be_. He can’t have heard. He was listening to music, after all, and Oikawa had taken care to be as quiet as possible-

“What do you mean, Iwa-ch-”

“I thought I heard you say… something.”

Iwaizumi trails off, a frown creasing his forehead yet again.

“You must have misheard, Iwa-chan? If you turn your music up too loud, it’ll damage your hearing, you know?”

“I wasn’t listening to anything, dumbass. I was listening to you. Because you… you only say the important stuff when you think no one can hear you.”

Oikawa’s lips form an “oh” but no sound comes out.

“... and I’m pretty sure I heard… a confession just now.”

It takes Iwaizumi several deep breaths to say this, but he doesn’t look away. Oikawa is caught; transfixed by the way those eyes bore into his own.

“Ah. Iwa-chan, are you sure you’re hearing is alright? It’d be troublesome if-”

“No, no. My hearing is fine, and we both know it, Shittykawa.”

Iwaizumi has turned fully towards him now, and he’s pushed himself up a little so they’re on eye level. Oikawa seems to have moved in closer subconsciously, because he doesn’t remember doing it at all – but here they are, faces suddenly closer together than before.

“…did you mean it?” Iwaizumi asks.

Oikawa knows he can’t run anymore, not from this, not from here.

He drops back onto the mattress, facing the ceiling, letting the blush take over his cheeks.

“You’re an idiot, Iwa-chan,” he says, for lack of anything better.

He hears rustling, and suddenly Iwaizumi’s face appears above his own.

“And you’re a coward,” the ace states. “Aren’t you supposed to confess properly?”

Oikawa scoffs quietly. “You want me to write a love letter, Iwa-chan?”

He’s pretty sure that nothing matters anymore, now.

Iwaizumi licks his lips, and Oikawa doesn’t know if it’s in frustration or because of something else.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Oikawa frowns. “Seriously?”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Sure. Come to my classroom, ask me out, the whole nine.”

The thought tugs a soft chuckle from Oikawa’s lips, and Iwaizumi’s expression softens at the sound. Oikawa tenses once the sound fades, though.

“You heard it,” he says.

“I did,” Iwaizumi says, sounding almost matter-of-fact. “But did you mean it?”

“… what do you think, Iwa-chan?”

That’s not what he actually wants to ask. The question burning on his tongue is _what do you want,_ but he’s not about to ask that just yet.

“I think… I think you’re gonna have to say it again,” the ace says slowly.

Oikawa frowns, managing an almost-pout. “No way! You’ll just make fun of me. ‘Sides, there’s no way-”

“…that I’d feel the same?”

Oikawa stares. “…yeah,” he says, but it’s weak, fragile. _It can’t be_.

“Why are you so sure? You haven’t even asked me yet. Hell, you haven’t even really… said it yet, either. Not to my face.”

They glare at each other for a moment, then Oikawa gives in and averts his eyes.

“Just forget it,” he says, but he sees Iwaizumi shake his head from the corner of his eye.

“No way. You started this, so fucking finish it.”

Oikawa bites his lip. He knows he’s right, and he exhales in resignation. His gaze flicks back over to his best friend, who is watching him with something like concern on his face.

“I… love you, Iwa-chan,” he says finally, and he’s kind of proud that he manages to look at Iwaizumi the entire time.

Iwaizumi exhales, and it’s like all the pressure is falling away.

“…how long?” he asks.

Oikawa shrugs weakly. “…always?” he says, not sure if that was the right or the wrong thing to say. Actually, he’s not sure there even is a right or wrong at this point.

“…and how long have you been… like this? Torturing yourself?”

“What’s with these questions, Iwa-chan, I don’t-”

“How long have you let this affect you, Oikawa? You’ve been… worrying. I know you have. So how long… how long was _this_ the issue?”

Oikawa shrugs again. “…five years, maybe? But… it got worse recently. I just… I couldn’t tell you, because… well, what if you didn’t-”

“You thought you’d lose me? Over this?”

His tone makes Oikawa look up, startled. “Iwa-”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi interrupts, and he takes great care that he is also looking at him the entire time. “You are a fucking idiot if you believed for one second that there is anything, anything at all that could break our friendship.”

And it hits him again, like an arrow through his heart. Ah, shit. He’s really in too deep.

“But Iwa-chan-”

“No,” Iwaizumi says, cutting him off yet again. “It’s my turn now. First of all – don’t bottle up stuff like this. Five years? Seriously? Any normal person would just… say something, at some point. Why do you think you always have to do everything alone?”

Oikawa opens his mouth, but Iwaizumi glares him down. “I’m not done. If you really- …if it’s true, then… God, Oikawa… how fucking dense are you?”

“Huh?”

“Listen. We do everything together, right? So if you… if you really… like me, then isn’t it very, very plausible that I like you, too? Why do you always assume the worst?”

Oikawa blinks, because Iwaizumi is blushing now.

“…wait. What?”

Even when he’s embarrassed, Iwaizumi manages to glare at him. “So you never even con _sidered_ -”

“Wh-”

“Ah, damn it.”

And Iwaizumi starts to turn away, but Oikawa surges forward, pushing himself up on his elbow and reaching for his arm.

“You mean. I actually… I actually have a chance?”

Iwaizumi purses his lips, avoiding his gaze.

“You… like me, Iwa-chan?”

The ace sighs, then meets his gaze. He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to.

“…how long?” Oikawa asks, in turn, his eyes wide in wonder.

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Probably always. Just… I wasn’t… really aware of it. Until… recently.”

“…oh.”

Iwaizumi practically rolls his eyes at him. “Oh?” he repeats.

“Oh,” Oikawa confirms. Somehow, it feels like everything around them has been switched off, there’s just the two of them, in this tiny room, lost in each other’s gazes. And suddenly he’s hyper-aware of his own body, of his heartbeat thudding in his ears, the color rising to his cheeks, the moisture in the palms of his hands.

“…so. Uhm.”

He rubs the back of his neck, searches for words. Iwaizumi watches him, a tiny smile slowly spreading across his face. Then the ace reaches forward and grabs hold of the front of Oikawa’s shirt.

“For God’s sake, Shittykawa. Are you gonna kiss me or not?”

Oikawa stares at him, startled at his bluntness.

“Ah- uhm. If. If you want me to-”

“…too slow,” Iwaizumi mutters, and he tugs at the fabric between his fingers. Oikawa loses his balance, falls forward and only has a split-second to realize what’s happening before a pair of soft lips covers his own.

He tenses, pulling away to stare at him.

“Iwa-chan, wait, give me a second-”

“No,” Iwaizumi says. “I think we’ve waited long enough,” and he leans forward to claim Oikawa’s mouth a second time, with more force. The thrill of it leaves Oikawa breathless, and suddenly he forgets why he wanted time to think, to sort this out, when it’s so much easier to just let himself fall and believe that his Iwa-chan would catch him.

After all, he’s always caught him so far, every single time.

Iwaizumi notices the change, and this time he pulls away, looking slightly worried.

“…you okay?” he asks, but Oikawa hears the real question. _Is this okay?_

“Yes,” he manages, a soft gasp. “God, yes.”

Iwaizumi breaks into a smile, and if Oikawa wasn’t completely smitten by then, that smile sealed the deal.

“Good,” Iwaizumi says, and he sounds almost smug. This time they both lean in, and when their lips meet, it feels like fireworks exploding in Oikawa’s chest because _this_. This is all he’s wanted.

His hands move up to cup Iwaizumi’s face, brush over his neck and into his hair and the ace hums a little in appreciation. Oikawa takes this as the encouragement it is and tugs a little harder, tilting the other’s face so he can get a better angle, take control of this-

And suddenly there are hands in his own hair, and twisting his shirt; rough and possessive and better than he could ever have imagined. He lets go, then, submitting easily to Iwaizumi’s touch as if he was born to. If he’s completely honest with himself, he probably was.

A soft moan escapes him and Iwaizumi laughs into the kiss, a soft sound that fills Oikawa up and drowns him in warmth. It’s infectious, it always is, and they break apart, each unable to control the laughter bubbling up to their lips.

“You had to ruin it,” Oikawa gasps, breathless and happy beneath his pretend-annoyance.

“You’re the one who immediately gave in, though. Didn’t think you’d be that… easy,” Iwaizumi teases, and Oikawa can’t help but notice the dampness of his eyes from laughing so much.

“Of course I’m weak for my Iwa-chan,” he says, trying to sound defensive while relishing the smug look on the other’s face.

“You’d better be. Just… just for me, though. Wouldn’t want you melting like that for someone else.”

“Don’t worry, I’m exclusively submissive to you.”

Iwaizumi hums in agreement, running his fingers through Oikawa’s hair. “Good.”

Oikawa closes his eyes and just feels, feels the softness of Iwaizumi’s hands that are usually so rough with him, and he lets himself revel in the moment, in the triumph and relief that’s taking over him because his worry was unfounded, his feelings reciprocated, his cries heard.

“…you still want that letter?” he asks quietly, his eyes still closed.

Iwaizumi’s fingers hesitate for a second, taken aback, but then they resume their movement.

“Yeah. But only if you wear a skirt and pigtails when you deliver it, dumbass.”

Oikawa opens his eyes and tries to look scandalized, but the grin tugging at his lips is stronger.

“Screw you,” he says, and Iwaizumi laughs. Oikawa loves the sound of it, it fills his chest with warmth.

“And here I thought you’d look good in anything, and you’d jump at the opportunity to prove it,” Iwaizumi teases.

“Is that a challenge?”

Iwaizumi considers him for a moment.

“Only if you wear heels, too,” he says finally, and Oikawa purses his lips.

“I’m not gonna do that in public.”

“But you’d do it for me?”

“…maybe. If you let me kiss you again. And if you promise to undress me afterwards.”

Iwaizumi all but beams at him.

“I thought that was a given.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how does romance even work ok I have no idea  
> one day I will choke on all the fluff


	3. IWAOI There's only so many times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he opens his eyes, he’s not surprised that the first thing he notices, the only other person in the room, sitting on a plastic chair beside his bed, is Hajime.  
> What he’s not expecting though is to see him crying, hands clenched to fists in his lap, eyes fixed on the ground.  
> “…Iwa-chan, you know you shouldn’t be the one crying right now…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyheyhey, I haven't forgotten about this!  
> I think I'm gonna turn this into a drabble dump for all requests, though, not just that first list of prompts :'D *throws her hands in the air* WHAT IS PLANNING
> 
> This was a tumblr request from @chxngsey (THANK YOU FRIEND), _#7: “There are only so many times I can watch you break before I start to crack.”_ with Iwa-chan being the one who says it!  
>  Be warned, this is pretty angsty. At least at first. ( ~~I'm weak~~ )

When he opens his eyes, he’s not surprised that the first thing he notices - the only other person in the room, sitting on a plastic chair beside his bed - is Hajime.

What he’s not expecting though is to see him crying, hands clenched to fists in his lap, eyes fixed on the ground.

“…Iwa-chan, you know you shouldn’t be the one crying right now…?”

Hajime raises his head, startled, and then his face scrunches up, like he’s trying to smile but it’s too painful.

“Shut up,” he says, tugging at his lower lip with his teeth. “There are only so many times I can watch you break before I start to crack.”

Tooru doesn’t really know what to reply to that. It’s rare to see Hajime this open, this vulnerable. (Screw “rare”. It never happens.)

He sits up cautiously, careful not to disturb the tube in his arm. It’s not the first time, and it’s almost scary how he’s not even surprised to wake up here anymore.

Hajime moves closer, rising from the chair beside Tooru’s hospital bed and sitting down on the mattress, close enough so he can reach for Tooru’s arms, fingers brushing against his skin, just a little short of frantic. Tooru doesn’t shrink back – not now, not when Hajime is like this, shaking and worried.

“…how are you feeling?” he asks, trying so, so hard to keep his face impassive (but Tooru can see the fear underneath. He can see the pain).

“…I’ll live,” Tooru says and manages a half-hearted smile.

Hajime’s hands trail upwards, find Tooru’s shoulders, his chest.

“When’s the last time you ate?” he asks quietly.

Tooru tilts his head to one side. “That… depends. How long have I been here?”

If this is how they’re doing this, Tooru thinks he’s okay with that. A normal conversation is better than the fuss everyone else makes. Oh, he can already see his mother storming into the room, white-faced and fragile, she’d probably forgotten to eat again as well – Iwa-chan would joke that it runs in the family, the stress-induced weight loss, and Tooru’s made her worry again-

“…you were out for two days. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to set a record, Tooru.”

At this, Tooru blinks up at him in confusion.

“What, no ‘Shittykawa’? Who are you, and what have you done with my Iwa-chan?”

Hajime just shakes his head, hands falling down into Tooru’s lap. He lets his head hang, and Tooru catches a glimpse of more tears that are slipping out of his eyes.

“I can’t lose you.”

It’s so quiet that Tooru barely hears, and he leans in closer in spite of himself, slumping slightly without the pillows supporting him. “…what?”

“There’s only so many times you can do this, you know? Collapse like that. If I hadn’t found you when I did, you might… you might not be-”

Hajime swallows heavily, taking a breath to steady himself (not that it’s doing much good).

“I can’t do this, Tooru. I can’t watch you break yourself again and again. I know you’re chasing your dream, but you… you need to stop pushing it like that. What good is that dream if you die trying to get there?”

His breath hitches, and he’s reaching for Tooru’s hands, squeezing them in his own. He stops talking for a moment, like he’s searching for words, catching his breath, bracing himself.

“Don’t you get that your life means more than being first string setter for this team…? You’re so good, and so close, why- why can’t you learn how to rest…?”

Tooru’s face darkens, and he pulls his hands back. “That’s exactly why I can’t,” he says. “If I let up now, the other setters are gonna catch up, they’re gonna-”

“I know you won’t rest for yourself,” Hajime says, interrupting him harshly and making Tooru flinch. The sudden movement spikes a pain in Tooru’s stomach that he hadn’t noticed before, and it causes him to draw back even further on impulse, curling in over himself.

Hajime’s hands are there before Tooru can even draw his next breath, and he’s helping him up, firm but gentle, always so, so gentle even though his words are gruff, and Tooru gasps at the thought-

“Are you alright? Hurt? Should I call the nurse?”

Tooru manages to shake his head, lifting a hand to brush Hajime’s away. “It’s fine.”

He sits back up gingerly, throwing Hajime the most convincing glare he can muster, considering that seeing his strong, collected best friend shaking and crying is doing nothing for Tooru’s own nerves. But he doesn’t see what the big deal is – other than that he wasted two days (two whole days!) in this goddamn hospital because his body couldn’t keep up, again. “I’m fine.”

“I wish you’d stop lying to yourself,” Hajime says. “But maybe you’ll never understand that you’re destroying yourself.”

He takes another deep breath, making sure that he’s looking Tooru in the eye when he speaks again.

“If I was the one in that bed, you might see it differently.”

Tooru frowns, because that’s a stupid thing to say, and Hajime should know better. He opens his mouth and is about to tell him as much – Iwa-chan is an amazing player and he works hard, he’s sure to become first string in this college team soon enough? Iwa-chan has no reason to work himself down to the bone because he’s _enough_ , he’s always been enough, but Tooru-

“…you’re enough for me,” Hajime says, like he knows exactly where Tooru’s train of thought is leading him, and everything stops.

“Iw-”

“I know you won’t rest, because you want to get better, you want to be stronger, but… you can’t see that you’re already enough. Hell, you’re more than enough, if you ask me.”

Tooru only realizes that he’s crying because Hajime is starting to get blurry, swimming in and out of focus as tears build in his eyes.

Hajime reaches out again, and this time Tooru lets him. He lets himself be tipped forwards until his head meets Hajime’s chest, lets the ace wrap his shaking arms around him and pull him close with a sigh that can’t be described as anything other than relieved.

“…didn’t ask you though,” Tooru mumbles, and he’s sure he hears Hajime let out a strangled chuckle.

“You’re an asshole, Oikawa.”

“…I s-seem to get that a lot. Especially from y-you.”

He can hear Hajime’s heart slamming against his ribcage, way, way too fast.

“I need you to promise me something,” Hajime says, quiet and a little too real, too honest.

“Hm…?”

“…don’t kill yourself trying to reach the top,” he whispers. “If you can’t rest for yourself, then promise me you’ll… you’ll rest for me…?”

Tooru’s heart skips a beat.

“…for you?”

“I don’t know what I’d do if- if you were gone, and I don’t want to find out. I can’t, Tooru. I need- I need you to… not die. Please. For me. Promise me.”

“Iwa-chan, that’s-”

“…too much to ask?” Hajime asks, and Tooru can hear the soft smile in his voice somewhere above him. “…and really cheesy, right?”

That’s not the word Tooru would have used. Unreal. Delusional. Too good to be true. _For me._

If only he knew.

“…kind of.”

Hajime doesn’t say anything for a moment, he just tightens his grip, and then his voice is all tiny again, and scared, and _relieved-_

“I thought I’d lost you for good this time,” he breathes. “God, Tooru, don’t ever do that to me again. I fucking love you, and if you’re gone, I’m- I can’t-”

Tooru stiffens, sure he must have misheard, because there’s _no way_ Hajime just said that-

“This- this isn’t the place for this, I know,” Hajime says, and he manages another shaky laugh (Tooru feels his breath against his hair), “but this was too close, and I need you to know. I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner, or- or kept my mouth shut, but I thought you were _dead_ and my world fell apart and I can’t do this without you, Tooru. I can’t. I can’t. Don’t make me lose you. I _can’t_.”

And that’s it, that’s the straw that breaks him.

Tooru feels it building, bubbling to the surface, threatening to burst, and he pulls back and catches a glimpse of Hajime’s expression – raw, open, _hurt_ but then there’s something else there too, a nuance that he’s only caught glimpses of until then, a nuance he’s ignored because _there’s no way-_

“H-Hajime,” he says, and his lips part over a sob that’s too loud, too big - and then he’s _bawling._

He can’t even lift his hands to cover his face, he’s just unabashedly sobbing, wrecked and broken and all right there for Hajime to see.

Hajime.

Hajime, the ultimate goal behind anything and everything Tooru has ever done in his life, for as long as he can remember.

Hajime, always in the back of his mind, always all over his heart.

Iwaizumi _I fucking love you_ Hajime.

How is he supposed to _not_ break, after that?

He tries to focus, tries to see Hajime’s expression through his tears because he can’t picture it, has no idea what kind of face he’s making now but he needs to know, needs to know if this was real-

“Tooru-“

“I-Iwa-ch- Ha- Hajime, I lo-”

“Tooru, you need to calm down, your body can’t-”

But he doesn’t want to hear it, has to say this if it kills him, has to get this out because Hajime has to _know-_

“Lis-listen, H-Hajime, I love- I’ve al- always-”

And there are arms around him again, and they’re not shaking so hard anymore. They’re warm and reassuring, and Tooru finds himself surrounded by the familiar scent that never fails to calm him down, finds himself melting into an embrace he thought might never actually happen, with Hajime’s fingers desperately digging into his skin and the ghost of Hajime’s lips against his forehead as he buries his face in Tooru’s hair.

Tooru’s heart feels like it’s going to shoot straight out of his chest, and he claws at the back of Hajime’s shirt, trying to make him see, to make him understand-

And everything is finally, finally slotting together. Tooru sobs, and Hajime rubs circles into his skin.

“I’ve got you,” he says, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you, don’t worry,” and then “we’re- we’re gonna be okay.”

Something about that sentence, **_we_** _, we’re gonna be okay,_ has Tooru crying even harder. This is more than he would have ever dared to hope. His grip goes slack and he lets Hajime hold him, hears the soft sigh that sounds more fond than exasperated, and feels Hajime’s heartbeat, still racing just as quickly as his own.

“S-sorry,” Tooru manages, “I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay. Just… be more careful from now on. Think- think you can do that, idiot…?”

Tooru’s short burst of laughter is distorted through his tears, but Hajime laughs anyway, and Tooru loves the sound of their voices together, even if they’re bruised and battered and not anything close to perfect.

“For you,” Tooru says, and Hajime gasps.

“Tooru-”

“I promise.”

It’s enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, this was fun! It's also up on my [tumblr](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com), right [here](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com/post/151855848570/even-tho-youre-busy-lets-do-sentence-7) and if you reblog it I'll love you forever :D  
> ALSO I'm still doing these prompts, so [send me one](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com/post/151809670505/sentence-dialogue-drabble-prompts)?? Please!


	4. IWAOI No, you're gonna hit me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come here.”  
> Oikawa takes the tiniest of steps back, apprehensive.  
> “Why?”  
> “Just come here.”  
> “No. You’re gonna hit me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was an anonymous prompt on tumblr, Dialogue #8 with IwaOi! (Honestly this dialogue was MADE for them haha~)  
> List of prompts is [here](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com/post/151809670505/sentence-dialogue-drabble-prompts), feel free to drop one in my [ask](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com/ask)~! I've got a couple more of these in the works already - any pairing is fine, you guys! :D I'm having way too much fun with these rn...

“Come here.”

Oikawa takes the tiniest of steps back, apprehensive.

“Why?”

“Just come here.”

“No. You’re gonna hit me.”

Iwaizumi sighs, rolling his eyes as he holds out his hand. “Why do you always expect the worst, Shittykawa?”

Oikawa pulls his lips into a pout, backed up against the door now, as far away from Iwaizumi as possible without leaving the room.

“Because you always hit me!”

Iwaizumi gets up from his chair, resigned. He won’t get any work done like this, anyway.

“Maybe that’s because your comments are rude and you deserve it?”

Oikawa shakes his head vigorously, shrinking back, fingers inching towards the doorknob like he thinks Iwaizumi won’t notice. “Impossible, Iwa-chan. I’m not rude, just being honest!”

“Oh, yeah?” Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow at him. “Then why don’t you repeat what you said just then…?”

Oikawa gives him the widest, smuggest grin he can muster and says: “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Are you sure? Because I could have sworn I heard you asking for _punishment._ ”

The shiver that passes over Oikawa’s body is very real and visible, but the setter pretends not to notice. Instead he winks and then lunges for the door, yanking it open as fast as he can to make his escape.

Iwaizumi reacts instantly, darting after him as Oikawa bolts out of the room.

He doesn’t chase him often, because Oikawa is faster and even though he won’t admit it, Iwaizumi kind of doesn’t like losing to him – but right now Oikawa is laughing so hard that he can’t catch a proper breath, and that’s all the advantage Iwaizumi needs. He’s on top of him before they even reach the stairs, throwing an arm out to catch him around his waist and stop him by force.

Oikawa squeals at the contact and tries to twist out of his grip, but he has no chance. Iwaizumi may be a little slower, but he’s definitely stronger. He wraps his arms around his middle and hoists him up, shrieking and laughing, carrying his captured prey back into his room. Oikawa struggles, tugging at his hands, but Iwaizumi simply digs his fingers into his sides, right below his ribs, making him squirm and shriek again.

“You should know better,” Iwaizumi chides, tossing Oikawa down onto the bed like he weighs nothing. “I know all your weak spots, dumbass.”

Oikawa huffs out a laugh as he looks up at him, slightly breathless, his hair splayed out on the mattress behind him.

“Worth a shot,” he says, and grins.

“Yeah, yeah, nice try. Now, what was that you were saying earlier? _Iwa-chan is boring and doesn’t know how to have fun_ …?”

Oikawa puts on his best scandalized face, even though he can’t hide the flush that spreads over his cheeks when Iwaizumi puts his knees on either side of him and braces himself above Oikawa with his arms, effectively caging him in.

“Not at all! I believe what I said was _Iwa-chan is a huge bore, all he ever does is work, and he never has time for his gorgeous boyfriend – that’s no fun at all!_ ”

Iwaizumi barks out a laugh. “Right. That is, of course, something completely different.” He lowers himself down a little, and Oikawa reaches up to run his fingers over Iwaizumi’s stomach through his shirt.

“Well, you could prove me wrong…?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, knowing that it’s already too late, really. He’s only resisting because that’s what they do, and he really _is_ supposed to be finishing that essay… not that he’ll be able to do that until Oikawa is satisfied, anyway.

“Is that a challenge, Oikawa?” he asks, exhaling a huff of air against Oikawa’s face.

“Always,” Oikawa says with a grin, grabs him by the neck and pulls him down so he can slot their lips together. And then, right as he pulls away, he adds: “Have some fun with me, Iwa-chan.”

His tone of voice makes Iwaizumi shiver involuntarily, and he swears right then that he’ll make Oikawa regret that.

“You better prepare yourself. Make sure you don’t regret asking me that later.”

Oikawa licks his lips and smiles sweetly. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t regret this in a million years.”

Iwaizumi allows himself to smirk, repositioning his weight so he can lift a hand to Oikawa’s chin and tilt his head upwards. “No complaining, then. I’m gonna take you apart.”

Oikawa’s smile grows, and he pulls Iwaizumi down on top of him, chest against chest, wrapping his arms around his waist-

And then he digs his fingers into Iwaizumi’s sides.

Iwaizumi lets out an undignified squeal of surprise and jolts away, but Oikawa isn’t letting him go so easily – he secures his grip by wrapping his legs around him as well, holding him down as he tickles him mercilessly, laughing all the while.

Iwaizumi fights until there’s no breath in him, but it was a losing battle to begin with. If Oikawa is ticklish, Iwaizumi is twice as bad, and he cracks much, much more quickly.

“I give- ha- Tooru- st-”

“What?” Oikawa asks, smugness dripping from his voice. “I can’t hear you…?”

“Sur-surrender!” Iwaizumi wheezes, tapping the mattress with his hand. “You win, you- ah- you win-”

Oikawa generously decides to spare him after two more precise jabs with his fingers, and Iwaizumi collapses on top of him, breathing heavily.

“You- you’re evil,” he gasps, voice slightly muffled because his face is buried in the blanket beside Oikawa’s head.

“It’s called being clever, Iwa-chan. It was a trap, fair and square, and you fell for it.”

Iwaizumi turns his head so he can glare at him – not that Oikawa can really see him from this angle, anyway.

“…right.”

Oikawa swings his leg up, using the momentum to flip them over so that he’s on top of Iwaizumi now, smiling down at him a little too cheekily to be innocent.

“So,” he says, drawing out the word. “…I win.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. He should have known.

“Yeah, you win. What do you want?”

Oikawa’s dumb, shit-eating grin just grows wider.

“You know exactly what I want, Iwa-chan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was seriously A WHOLE LOT OF FUN. I should write not-so-serious fics more often :'D  
>  ~~I'm not sorry for all the implications here hahah~~  
>  Find me on tumblr @frenchibi and come say hi! I love talking to you guys, you inspire me a lot~


	5. parents!iwaoi with child!Hinata

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FAIR WARNING HERE, this might not be up all of your alleys - I got a request from my lovely friend Pipa for IwaOi as parents with kid!Hinata (and I added kid!Natsu for good measure), so if that's not your thing then you can skip this one :D
> 
> I got so many requests on tumblr, I'm kind of astonished? WORRY NOT, I WILL DO ALL OF THEM!! And I'm super excited to write them, you have no idea :D

Tooru is woken by something softly tugging at his hand where it hangs off the side of the bed. His first instinct is to pull it back in alarm, but thankfully his brain is quick to catch up, to put him back in the time and the place he’s woken up to and allowing him to turn his head and focus on what woke him.

“…To-kun,” a tiny voice says, “To-kun, wake up-”

He lifts his head a little, a smile stretching across his face when he sees who is standing beside his bed.

“I’m awake, love. Are you alright?”

The small figure shakes its head and tightens its grip on his fingers. He pushes himself up onto his free elbow – the arm around his torso slips down a little and tightens briefly – and his eyebrows draw together in worry.

“What’s wrong, Nat-chan?”

Looking closer now, he can see there are tears in the little girl’s eyes, and her lip is quivering.

“Come quick, To-kun,” she says quietly, “I think… I think Shou-chan’s having a nightmare and he won’t wake up…”

There’s a soft groan beside him, and Hajime raises his head a little, squeezing Tooru’s stomach.

“What’s going on…?” he asks, his voice gruff from sleep.

“It’s okay,” Tooru tells him as he sits up, Hajime’s arm sliding off him and leaving a strange chill in its wake. He turns back to Natsu. “I’m coming, don’t worry.”

She hasn’t let go of his hand, but he can see her trembling, so he scoops her up into his arms and lifts her off the floor. Immediately she wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face there, her hair tickling his chin.

“Aw, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, baby. Shou-chan will be fine. Come on, let’s go see him right now.”

She just nods and sniffles quietly, trying to hide the fact that she’s crying because she’s afraid Shouyou would make fun of her if he knew. Tooru’s chest clenches at the thought.

He hears movement behind him, and then an arm wraps around his waist again, enveloping him in warmth.

“What’s wrong?” Hajime asks softly, before pressing a kiss to Natsu’s hair.

“Shouyo’s having a nightmare and she got worried. Come on, let’s go check on him real quick.”

Hajime’s eyebrows knit together in worry. “Alright,” he says, and takes the lead.

Tooru carries Natsu down the hall behind him, back to the room she and Shouyou share. They can hear the soft whimpers even before they walk through the door that Natsu left ajar when she came over to wake them. Hajime quickens his pace.

“…Shouyou?” he asks softly, pushing the door open all the way.

The boy doesn’t answer, but they can all hear him making tiny distressed sounds.

Hajime crosses the room in two strides and leans over the bed, hands immediately coming up to check if Shouyou is hurt.

“Hey, Shouyou, wake up,” he says, shaking him gently. “Shouyou…”

“He wouldn’t answer me,” Natsu whispers, sounding scared. Tooru hugs her close. “It’s alright. It’s good that you woke us, love.”

Over on the bed, there’s a sudden gasp and Shouyou’s eyes fly open.

“Hey there,” Hajime says, managing a small smile. “Are you okay? You were having a nightmare, and Natsu got worried-”

Shouyou takes a couple of deep breaths, eyes wide, and Tooru notices the thin sheen of sweat on his skin. He swallows, putting on a smile as well so as not to worry him. “It’s alright,” he says, “we’re all here now.”

Shouyou blinks, eyes shooting back and forth between them, before he bites his lip and tears start welling up in his eyes.

“Oh,” Hajime says softly, and he kneels down beside Shouyou’s bed. “I’m sorry, baby, did we overwhelm you? It’s okay. It was only a dream.”

Natsu is squirming in Tooru’s arms, so he kneels down as well and puts her back on the ground. She’s over at Shouyou’s side in seconds, and of course she can’t stop the tears.

“Shou-chan, I was so worried-”

Shouyou takes one look at his sister’s scared face, and that’s all it takes for his own tears to start spilling over his cheeks, large and equally frightened.

“N-Nat-chan,” he stutters, taking her hands in his and squeezing tightly, “N-Nat-chan, I’m s-sorry-”

Hajime covers his mouth with one hand, reaching out to rub Shouyou’s back with the other.

“Aw, hey, hey, it’s okay,” Tooru says, moving up to the bed and wrapping his arms around both of his children and pulling them to his chest. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re safe.”

He meets Hajime’s gaze, silently asking for his assessment, and receives a nod in response.

“Okay, you two, you wanna come sleep with your dads tonight?”

Natsu’s arms tightening around his neck are all the answer he needs.

“Alright. Come on then, let’s go.”

He gets to his feet, lifting her right up out of the bed, and Hajime holds his arms out to Shouyou, who sinks into them without question. He lifts the tiny boy up as well and follows Tooru back to their room, whispering soft reassurances to Shouyou as he does so.

“It’s okay, it’s okay baby. We’re all right here, see? Nat-chan just got a little scared, is all. It’s okay.”

“I’m s-sorry,” Shouyou whispers, only loud enough for Hajime to hear.

“Oh, no, baby, there’s reason to be sorry! Nightmares happen to everyone, they’re not your fault. And you’re okay now. It’s over.”

Shouyou is still shaking, so Hajime squeezes him a little tighter. “It’s okay.”

It’s not until they’re all wrapped tightly together under the covers of Tooru’s and Hajime’s bed that Shouyou stops shaking and Natsu stops crying – but the emotional strain must have really tired them out, because they fall asleep again almost instantly, arms wrapped around each other and Natsu’s head resting over her brother’s heart.

Tooru reaches over, brushes some of Shouyou’s unruly hair out of his face and smiles softly. “…that gave me a scare,” he whispers, and Hajime looks up to meet his gaze.

“Me, too. But it seems they’re okay now.”

Tooru leans over the two children to press a kiss to Hajime’s forehead, humming softly in agreement. “…this is fine, right?”

“Yeah. Anything’s fine if it makes them feel safe.”

He settles back into his pillow and gently drapes his arm around the two tiny shapes between them, drawing up the blanket to cover them.

Tooru watches him fondly before lying down again as well, and putting his own arm over Hajime’s.

This is okay. They’re okay.

It takes a little while for his heartbeat to slow, but knowing that the people he loves most are right here and he can protect them is ultimately calming, and all of them drift back off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, if you did~ :D  
> (As always find me on [tumblr](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com), I do requests, yadda yadda, you know the drill~)


	6. FHQ ("Oh, so you're on their side now?") - IWAOI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So you declare war on all of humanity? _How is that any better?!_ ”  
> “They wouldn’t _listen_!”  
>  “You’re not listening either!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **FAIR WARNING** : Watch out, this one has mentions of Character Death. (And an open end that can be interpreted either way)  
> FHQ AU (w/Demon King Oikawa and Human Knight Iwaizumi. Possibly Reincarnation...?)
> 
> This was a prompt from @joanofarcticmonkeys, IwaOi and Sentence 25 from [here](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com/post/151809670505/sentence-dialogue-drabble-prompts), with Oikawa saying it.
> 
> I'm sorry for the sad.

“Oikawa!”

The tall figure turns, robes swishing, and Iwaizumi sees those familiar eyes widen as they take him in.

God, he knows how this must look.

“Oh,” Oikawa says, and his voice is carefully neutral. “…so you’re on their side no-”

“I’m not on anyone’s _side_ ,” Iwaizumi cuts in, “God, Oikawa, why can’t you get that into your head? This isn’t about choosing sides!”

“Tell that to them,” Oikawa says bitterly, waving his hand towards the window on the far side of the room. It looks like he’s gesturing to the whole world - and he might as well be. “They’ve been trying to kill me ever since they learned about my existence! There’s no reasoning with them, Iwa-chan, they hate me!”

“So you declare war on all of humanity? _How is that any better?!_ ”

“They wouldn’t _listen_!”

“You’re not listening either!”

Iwaizumi feels his rage taking over, even though he’d sworn he wouldn’t let that happen, he wouldn’t let that come between him and convincing Oikawa to stop this, stop all of this-

But his mind is reeling, taking him back to everything he’s already lost because of this senseless war. Mattsun and Makki’s laughing faces, fading to gray. Yahaba’s pain-filled scream over Kyoutani’s lifeless body.

 

A memory, of a small boy holding out his hand.

_“Come play with me!”_

The hint of horns protruding from the sides of his head. The glint of magic between his fingers.

_“Who’re you?”_

 

“Do you have any idea how many people have suffered because of your choices?!”

“And what about my suffering, _Hajime_?”

He hates the way Oikawa’s spits out his name, like having it on his tongue is causing him physical pain.

He takes a step forward, and he’s suddenly very aware of the blade resting against his back.

“This needs to stop,” he says, fighting to remain calm.

Oikawa’s eyes seem to glow red for a moment, and he lets out a short, bitter laugh.

“Have you come here to kill me, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer. He holds Oikawa’s gaze with fierce determination as he approaches the stairs that lead to where he’s standing. Oikawa stares back, unmoving, watching him climb towards him.

“…you can’t even admit it?” Something like hurt flashes across his face, but it’s gone so fast that Iwaizumi can’t make it out. “…of all people, I thought you would understand.”

“Oh, I understand,” Iwaizumi says. He’s reached the top of the stairs, and straightens up. Oikawa is still taller than him, if only by a little. He hates that even now, he’s looking up at him.

Oikawa shakes his head. “…if you did, you’d be at my side. Where you belong.”

“Stop this,” Iwaizumi says.

Oikawa exhales, but his mask is cracking. “Why are you here, Iwa-chan? If you’re going to kill me, _get it over with_!”

Iwaizumi lifts his arm, fingers closing around the hilt of his sword. Oikawa doesn’t move to stop him.

Slowly, Iwaizumi draws the blade. It’s large and powerful - it now feels like it’s been years since Mattsun made it for him, to suit his fighting style and, most importantly, to repell magic.

Oikawa holds his gaze, and Iwaizumi sees something break behind those eyes. 

They fall closed as the blade emerges, and he’s sure he’s not imagining the tear that flees from the corner of Oikawa’s eye.

He holds the blade out in front of him, in the space between himself and the Demon King-

 

~

 

A loud clattering sound of metal against marble startles Oikawa into opening his eyes again.

The sword - its energy is so much like him, so familiar it hurts - lies on the floor between them.

“I’m not here to kill you,” Iwaizumi says.

His stoic expression falls away, replaced by one of strange resignation. “They sent me, because they believe I’m the only one who can do it. Kill you. End this.”

He steps closer, over his sword, close enough that Oikawa could touch him now.

“They don’t understand that I can’t.”

Oikawa’s heart - what’s left of it - is beating too fast. This is off. Wrong. “What-”

“I could never kill you,” Iwaizumi says - and finally, all masks and reservations fall away. Oikawa sees the truth in his eyes, a truth he has known in his own heart for years, a truth he now realizes is reciprocated.

Oh, if only he had known.

“…Tooru,” Iwaizumi breathes - and Oikawa breaks.

He stumbles backwards, reaching for the throne (a glorified chair, really, an object with no further significance) to steady himself, because this-

Iwaizumi closes his eyes as tears start streaking his cheeks.

“…Hajime-”

“I love you,” Iwaizumi says. He reopens his eyes to look at Tooru, one last time. 

“I’m sorry.”

Oikawa opens his mouth to reply, reaches out - but then he hears it. The unmistakable whirr of approaching hovercraft, and footsteps outside the throne room door, coming closer at an alarming rate.

“…you’re the diversion,” he whispers, even as large shadows obscure the windows, blocking out the light. “…we’re both not getting out of this alive.”

Iwaizumi offers the tiniest of smiles.

“If what you said about fate is true,” he says, “then we will meet again.”

And the world descends into chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Reblog this fic here and I'll throw a party.](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com/post/152332702070/hello-sentence-25-iwaoi-with-oikawa-saying-it)
> 
>  
> 
> Prompts are always welcome (even though I still have a couple to get done. But I'll get there). Thank you for reading!


	7. IWAOI, "I am under no obligation to make sense to you"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime doesn't mind. It's this Oikawa that he loves the most, after all. Adorable, carefree and happy.  
> If an essay has to suffer for that, so be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @cheetahleopard on tumblr for this prompt! I felt sorry for the pain in the last prompt so I went and wrote senseless fluff :')  
> Here you go, enjoy!
> 
> [IwaOi, #5: "I am under no obligation to make sense to you."]  
> [Prompts [here](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com/post/151809670505/sentence-dialogue-drabble-prompts) \- drop me one!]  
> There's still a bunch more of these to come. Like... a BUNCH. Thank you so much to everyone who visited my ask box and left me one (or several!)! :D
> 
> OH ALSO!!! The lovely @adorableaceasahi on tumblr made _actual fanart_ for that last fic? The FHQ one? I'm- hjdhflahlhldhlhweqwbkslfaf this has never happened to me before and I am beyond honored.  
>  Please check it out [here](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com/post/152392611870/adorableaceasahi-fanart-i-did-for-frenchibi) and join me as I sob on the floor uncontrollably.

"What do you mean, you're leaving," Oikawa asks, and his voice is filled with hurt.

"Literally that."

"But- Iwa-chan, you can't just-"

Hajime sighs, running a hand over his tired eyes and praying for patience.

"Jesus Christ, Oikawa, you'd think I was breaking up with you or something, by all the fuss you're making about this."

Oikawa gasps and physically takes a step back.

"Iwa-chan!"

"I'm just going to the library. There's no way I can work with you here, and you know it."

Oikawa is back at his side before Hajime has time to so much as blink.

"Nooo, Iwa-chan, don't go! Don't leave me here all alone - I'll be good, I promise!"

"Yeah, right."

"I promise!"

How could he say no to those eyes? Hajime knows the second that he sighs and surrenders (leaving Oikawa cheering and clapping his hands together like a three-year-old) that this is going to be a long night.

Maybe it's okay, though. He knows Oikawa hates being alone.

 

~~~

 

He's just trying to get to the kitchen for a glass of water. Nothing more. This isn't a break from his godforsaken essay. Just... a brief boost of energy. A glass of _water_ , for crying out loud.

But he has to pass through the living room for that, where Oikawa is stretched out across the sofa watching some sort of documentary. And he has ears like a bat sometimes.

"Iwa-chan!" he says happily, perking up at the sound of his footsteps.

"Just getting some water, don't get excited."

But of course that doesn't stop him. On the contrary. Oikawa is up out of his seat in an instant, and runs up to Hajime before he can even walk past the sofa.

"Iwa-chaaaaan," Oikawa whines, draping himself over Hajime's shoulders from behind. The unexpected weight is enough to make him sag a little, and he clicks his tongue at him. Not that he has the heart to shake him off. He never does.

"...what is it now?" he asks, with the air of an exhausted mother of four, responding to yet another drama from one of her toddlers.

The insinuation isn't lost on Oikawa, and he pulls his lips into a well-practiced pout.

"I'm lonely, Iwa-chan," he says, tone somewhere between accusing and self-pitying.

Hajime feigns surprise.

"Oh no! You poor dear, that's terrible!"

Oikawa lets out a huff of air, offended, but Hajime grabs him by both hands before he can pull away, leans forward and tugs, taking Oikawa's entire weight onto his back and lifting him clean off the floor.

Oikawa yelps in surprise, scrambling for purchase before he wraps his legs around Hajime's, almost making him trip.

"Iwa-"

"Oh _no_ , looks like I'm losing my balance-"

"Don't you dare-"

With a devilish grin, Hajime lets himself drop sideways onto the couch, turning slightly to force Oikawa to take most of his weight.

Oikawa groans theatrically at the impact, arms tightening around Hajime's neck.

"Oh, Iwa-chan, I'm suffocating-"

Hajime wastes no time, he reaches back with his newly-free hands and jabs his fingers into Oikawa's sides, hard, cutting him off.

Oikawa squeals indignantly, trying to wiggle away - but it's not like there's anywhere he can go, what with Hajime on top of him and all.

"Iwa- ha- s-stop-"

Hajime laughs softly, but pulls his arms back in mercy.

"Sure thing, idiot," he says. He's not even trying to hide the fondness in his voice.

Screw his essay.

"...you're evil," Oikawa mutters, but the impact of his words is completely destroyed when he pulls Hajime back and presses a kiss to his neck. 

"Absolutely ruthless. Why would you do this to me?!"

Hajime smirks. "I am under no obligation to make sense to you."

Oikawa clicks his tongue. "You could at least _try_ , Iwa-chan."

"Ah, but you love me," Hajime says with a smile. It's not really his line - it feels a lot more like something Oikawa would say - but Hajime just feels like re-confirming it now, with Oikawa's arms (and his legs) wrapped tightly around him.

Not that he'd need Oikawa to say the words. He knows him by heart, his expressions, his gestures, the subtle signals he sends. And oh, he loves every last shard of him.

"Are you sure?" Oikawa teases, and Hajime can hear the smug grin that must be stretching across his face.

"Positive," Hajime tells him, reaching over his shoulder to ruffle a hand through Tooru's hair.

"You're pretty confident, for someone who's completely at my mercy."

Hajime scoffs. "Aren't I always?"

Oikawa laughs softly. "...ha. I wish."

Hajime twists in Oikawa's arms, just far enough to look at him. "No need to wish for that."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. You know I'm weak to you, love," Hajime whispers. He knows it's cheesy as hell, but Oikawa's widening eyes and the blush shooting across his face make it well worth it. He thinks of his unfinished essay for a moment, almost regretting that he'd let himself get talked into staying - but Oikawa's warmth is very real at his back, and it calms him more than the silence in the library ever could. He could never regret this.

"Ah-" Oikawa starts, but Hajime doesn't give him the chance.

"Not that I'm surprised. You've always been good at seducing people," he says, cutting him off.

Oikawa seems to catch his breath for a moment before he lets it out in a short burst of laughter.

"Of course, Iwa-chan. I had to get good at it! You know - hone my skills before tackling the big game."

Hajime raises his eyebrows.

"Who's the big game, then?"

Oikawa looks at him like he'd just asked if the moon was made of cheese.

"You, of course! The ever elusive former ace of Aoba Johsai, Iwaizumi Hajime! Everyone's first gay crush! Iwa-chan the stoic, the unapproachable-"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down there!" Hajime cuts in, laughing lightly. "...everyone's first gay crush?"

Oikawa blinks at him.

"You really are this dense, aren't you, Iwa-chan."

It's not a question.

"What are you-"

"Good thing I called it first," Oikawa says, looking wary. "I loved you before anyone else did. So you're mine now."

Hajime shoots him a frown.

"Do I get a say in this? At all? Or am I _first come, first served_?"

Oikawa pushes his lips forward in a pout, but there's a hint of real worry in his eyes.

"As long as I hold on, you are," he says, completely without irony. "One day you're gonna realize how hot you are. I dread that day."

Hajime tilts his head to one side. "Why would you dread it? Don't wanna be seduced, _Tooru_?"

Oikawa bites his lip, and Hajime is sure his blush is deepening.

"That's not it," he says. He seems to fight for words for a moment, before his gaze drops away from Hajime's face.

"...just. You could probably have anyone you wanted."

Hajime gives him a long look, irritated that Oikawa isn't looking up at him.

"Oi. Shittykawa."

He doesn't move.

Hajime tries again, voice softer this time.

"Tooru."

Oikawa lifts his head, only to be met with a smile from Hajime.

"Good thing I already have who I want," he says. "Saves me the trouble of trial and error. And unnecessary seduction."

He leans in, pressing a kiss to Oikawa's cheek. "I can save all my skills for the big game."

Oikawa lets out a weak sort of chuckle.

"...you mean that?"

Hajime shoots him a reproachful look and flicks his finger against Oikawa's forehead.

"You wound me. I thought we had 'perfect trust', and yet here you are, doubting me."

Oikawa opens his mouth to protest, but Hajime simply ducks in and presses their lips together, silencing him.

Oikawa melts into the kiss, like he always does. Like he can't help it. Hajime would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it, having him open and vulnerable like this to his every move.

He pulls away to meet Oikawa's gaze, wide and full of love.

"Only you," he promises. "That much I can swear to you."

He sees the relief and happiness and affection in Oikawa's eyes and wishes he had a camera right now.

Oikawa gives him a smile that could make his knees turn to butter.

"So you _are_ mine, after all."

Hajime throws him an incredulous look before pulling him in close, chest against chest, heart to heart.

"Of course I'm yours. Always have been."

"Always?" Oikawa repeats, slightly breathless.

"Always, Tooru. Since the moment I met you."

Oikawa relaxes into Hajime's embrace with a small, content sigh.

"...you're perfect, Iwa-chan," he tells him quietly, running his hands down Hajime's back.

Hajime allows himself a dry chuckle. "Nothing but the best for the Grand King."

Oikawa laughs.

"I should hope so!" he declares, and Hajime can hear his wide, ear-to-ear smile. It makes his heart clench in his chest for all the right reasons.

"Mmh. Don't you dare replace me, though. You won't find anyone who knows you like I do."

"Iwa-chan!" Oikawa sounds positively affronted at the mere suggestion. "I would never!"

Hajime turns his head so he can press a kiss to the side of Oikawa's face.

"I know, I know. Just making sure."

"...only you," Oikawa says, parroting Hajime's words from earlier. "That much I can swear to you."

Hajime brings his hand up to tangle in Oikawa's hair, unable to fight the soaring feeling in his chest.

Not that he wants to. He's holding his entire world in his arms.

"I love you," he tells him, squeezing him lightly.

Oikawa squeezes right back.

"...love you, too." And then, quieter, "I won't let you go."

"As if I'd want to."

"You never know."

"Trust me."

Oikawa presses closer, burying his face in the crook of Hajime's neck. The position is kind of awkward, with Hajime still on top of him, but he doesn't seem to care. And Hajime is sure as hell not going to be the first one to pull away.

"Hold me, Iwa-chan, that was beautiful."

Hajime laughs.

"Oh, shut up."

"Never."

"...I should have known." He drags his fingernails lightly over Oikawa's scalp, and he leans into the touch. Hajime almost expects him to purr like a cat. 

"You're always gonna be an insufferable pain in my ass, aren't you?"

Oikawa considers this for a moment.

"...only if you want me there," he says finally, sweetly, and then he leans in and presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to Hajime's neck. Hajime thinks nothing of it, until he can suddenly feel Oikawa sucking in air.

"Goddamn it Oikawa, no hickeys, we have class-"

Oikawa dislodges himself with a gross popping sound and pulls back far enough for Hajime to see his wide, shit-eating grin.

"Oops," he says, and it's the most sickeningly adorable lie Hajime has ever heard coming out of his mouth.

"You're incorrigible."

"But you love me," Oikawa shoots back.

Well, he's not wrong.

Hajime just shakes his head and smiles, pulling Oikawa in for another kiss. He deepens it and is silently overjoyed when Oikawa lets him, lets him in with no hesitation at all.

When they break apart, they're both breathless and flushed, and Oikawa is beaming.

Hajime's own personal sun.

"...I'll take it," Oikawa says finally.

Hajime rolls his eyes, but the warmth in his chest must show on his face as well, because Oikawa won't stop smiling.

Hajime doesn't mind. It's this Oikawa that he loves the most, after all. Adorable, carefree and happy.

If an essay has to suffer for that, so be it.


	8. IWAOI, "How long have you been standing there"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Uhm. How- how long have you been standing there?"   
> Hajime clicks his tongue. "Longer than you'd like."   
> There's a brief silence.   
> "I thought you were coming home... later."   
> Hajime resists the urge to roll his eyes.   
> "I can see that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for @joanofarcticmonkeys - the first of many wonderful requests that I hope to get to soon!! (Girl, you need to get your sleeping schedule sorted out, so I sincerely hope you see this tomorrow when you wake up instead right after I post it. Take care of yourself!)
> 
> I'm sorry I haven't been uploading much these days. I have a lot of works that are half-done or 3/4 done and I'm doing my best to get them ready for posting! My life has been incredibly busy and I'm sorry. I'll try to be more active from now on!  
> Thank you for sticking with me, your comments and kudos mean the world and you know it.
> 
> Prompt: _IwaOi, dialogue 4: "How long have you been standing there?" - "Longer than you'd like."_  
>  If you were expecting angst, you've come to the wrong place :')

"Are you sure that's all you have, Makki? I don't know if this is gonna be enough-"

Hajime frowns a little at the sound of Tooru's voice, not expecting him to be home so early, and decides against loudly announcing his presence since he's evidently on the phone. He toes off his shoes and leaves his briefcase in the hall, deciding to deal with it later as he ventures further into the apartment.

"No, but- Makki, listen-"

There's a brief silence, then Tooru wails exaggeratedly. He's in the bedroom, apparently. "Don't be mean! I just want this to be perfect, okay? Is that so much to ask?"

It's not like Hajime is sneaking up on him, really. He walks over to the door normally, but Tooru seems too busy with his phone call to register his presence, even as he stands in the open doorway and stops in his tracks at the sight that spreads out before him.

The floor is _littered_ with photographs and what looks like heaps and heaps of notes, papers in different colors and shapes, covering every inch of space from the door to the bed to the wardrobe they share. Tooru is crouching in the middle of this huge mess, his back to the door, phone clutched to his ear.

"I swear to god, if you don't quit laughing at me, I'll hang up on you! This is supposed to surprise him, and it won't work if you don't help me!"

Hajime's eyes sweep the room - it's too late for him to leave now, anyway, even though he's evidently walked in on something he wasn't supposed to see - but then they catch on some of the photographs and he almost gasps in surprise.

If he had known someone had taken those, he would have probably punched them.

Most of the pictures are of him, and they range from all ages - toddler Hajime clinging to the edge of the sofa, too afraid of falling over to take the next step; Hajime on his first day of school, with a tiny Tooru clinging to the sleeve of his blazer; wide-eyed Hajime at his first visit to an amusement park (with Tooru in tow, of course); and a whole bunch of what look like candid snapshots of him from high school, including one with very dramatic lighting on a late afternoon, drenching him in golden light, and one where he fell asleep with his head on Tooru's shoulder, the two of them slumped into each other on one of the locker room benches. And that's only what he sees at first glance.

His eyes dart back up to Tooru, and he clears his throat.

It's strangely satisfying Tooru stiffen at the sound, and turn around almost in slow-motion.

"...shit," he says quietly, and drops the phone.

Their eyes meet, and Hajime just stares for a moment, not even knowing where to start.

"...Tooru," he says finally.

Tooru looks up at him sheepishly.

"Uhm. How- how long have you been standing there?"

Hajime clicks his tongue. "Longer than you'd like."

There's a brief silence.

"I thought you were coming home... later."

Hajime resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"I can see that."

Tooru looks up at him, almost pleading.

"...how long are you gonna be mad at me for this?"

Hajime gives him a long look, without blinking, before he closes his eyes and sighs.

"...approximately ten minutes," he decides. Tooru tilts his head in confusion.

"That's not very long."

Hajime bites his lip to stop himself from grinning. "Yeah, well. You were doing this" - he gestures to the papers and pictures scattered all over the floor - "without telling me, which kind of pisses me off, because I'm not the biggest fan of surprises, but..."

He crouches down beside him, pretending not to notice how Tooru flinches a tiny bit in apprehension, and picks up one of the photographs. "...this is kind of adorable. So, yeah. I won't be mad long."

Tooru twists his fingers together nervously, and Hajime sees him trying to not-so-stealthily hide a particular piece of paper under his foot.

His hand darts out, and though Tooru tries to swat him away, Hajime is faster. He snatches the paper up before Tooru can grab it and risk ripping it up - and, ignoring Tooru's frantic scrambling and loud yell of "No, don't-" while holding him at arm's length, he holds the paper up to see what's written on it.

It's a worksheet from what looks like middle school (why the fuck does Tooru keep every scrap of paper he's ever used in his life?), and it looks pretty unspectacular, until his eyes fall on the bottom of the page. It's covered in Tooru's childishly bubbly handwriting, with the same words over and over, like he'd been practicing how he wanted them to look. That's not something Hajime would put past him. Not that he'd ever do anything of the sort himself, but Tooru was always going on about wanting his writing to look neat (and his mom was kind of picky about it).

It's not the fact that Tooru was practicing his handwriting that surprises him though, and has his mouth falling open. It's the words he'd written.

The page is covered in the same two words over and over, a name, which looks oddly familiar and at the same time it doesn't.

Hajime's brain clicks, just a split second after his eyes catch on the swirl of letters.

_Iwaizumi Tooru._

Tooru freezes just as Hajime does, realizing it's too late to hide this from him.

For a moment, nothing happens, and they're both crouching on the ground, unmoving, Tooru's arms stretched awkwardly around Hajime in his failed attempt to tear the paper from his hands.

Then Hajime turns his head, staring at Tooru with an unreadable expression on his face. Tooru doesn't dare look away, and he swallows thickly. Their gazes are locked for a moment that feels like an eternity-

and then Hajime bursts out laughing.

He loses his balance and tilts sideways, falling onto Tooru and toppling them both over in a mess of limbs.

Tooru shrieks, but then Hajime's weight knocks the breath out of him so his outburst ends in a strangled wheeze. Hajime buries his head in the crook of Tooru's neck, but he _can't stop laughing_.

"Holy- h-holy shit, Tooru-"

"Oh my god Iwa-chan don't say it-"

"You- ah- hhh-"

There's no way another coherent word leaves Hajime's mouth, he's too busy giggling, falling into a fit of hysterics.

Tooru struggles beneath him, trying to wiggle free, but Hajime tightens his grip around him like an animal trapping its prey.

"Haaa- this is- you're so-"

Tooru resigns himself to his fate and stops fidgeting, a helpless smile finding its way onto his lips. Hearing Hajime laugh always does this to him, Hajime knows, and he can hear the smile in Tooru's voice when he says: "Iwa-chan... don't make fun of me..."

Hajime pulls back a little and drags his sleeve over his face, smearing the tracks of the tears of laughter spilling from his eyes. "You- you're _adorable_ ," he finally manages, and the effect that has on Tooru's complexion is practically astounding. Hajime has never seen him blush this fast, not even when he confessed.

"Iwa-chan-"

"You practiced writing your name in case you married me!"

Tooru groans and buries his face in his hands, but Hajime reaches up and pries them away. "No, no, don't hide from me!"

"Don't look at me-"

"Tooru. Hey."

"Nooo... please..."

He's twisting his face away, like that'll do him any good - Hajime simply grabs his cheeks and forces his face up, so he has no choice but to look at him.

"Were you going to... show me that?"

Tooru bites his lip. "Not yet," he mumbles. "I was gonna... make you a photo album. For our anniversary."

Hajime couldn't stop his fond smile if he wanted to, and Tooru visibly relaxes when it slides across his face.

"...you're not mad?"

Hajime stifles a laugh.

"Five minutes," he tells him.

Tooru gasps in mock-offense. "What, all this trouble and embarrassment and it only got me a five-minute anger reduction?"

Hajime sticks his tongue out at him. "You'd get more if we weren't already married, _Iwa-chan Tooru_." His own heart skips a beat even as he says it, and light dances in Tooru's eyes.

"So, what, you're gonna go out and be broody and upset for five minutes?"

Hajime sits up, releasing his hold on Tooru and allowing him to push himself up onto his elbows.

"Yeah. I'm gonna go stomp around the living room for a bit" - he gestures vaguely behind him - "and then I'm gonna come back and I'm gonna kiss you senseless."

Tooru furrows his brow, pretending to seriously consider Hajime's words before saying: "But if you see more of these pictures it'll spoil the surprise, Hajime!"

"Guess you have five minutes to clean them up, then."

"What? That's impossible!"

Hajime laughs into Tooru's scandalized expression, and it feels like his entire body is filling with a warm, bubbly sensation.

"You'd better hurry up. Unless you want me to go back to the initial ten minutes-"

Tooru scrambles out of Hajime's grip faster than he would have thought possible, stammering: "no, no, not at all", but the grin on his face betrays him.

Hajime gets to his feet, careful not to step on any of the pictures, and he reaches out for Tooru's hand.

"Hey."

"Hm?"

"You're adorable," he tells him again.

Tooru makes a face, trying to hide the happy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Get out."

"Don't order me around. I'll sulk," Hajime says, imitating Tooru's usual pout.

"No you won't. You think I'm adorable."

Hajime just shakes his head a little, huffing out a breath. "Get your surprise out of my sight, idiot."

Tooru shakes off Hajime's grip and crosses his arms - but then he seems to think better of it, and his gaze softens.

"...do your five minutes have to start right now?"

"Aw. Did you miss me that much?"

This time Tooru is the one to stick out his tongue. "Like a hole in the head, Iwa-chan," he lies.

Hajime reaches out and tugs him closer by the waist, thoroughly enjoying Tooru's tiny startled gasp.

"Shut up and kiss me."

 

(The nameplate next to the doorbell reads "Iwaizumi," and Tooru's heart skips a little every time he comes home. _Iwaizumi Tooru_ \- it has a nice ring to it.)

 

(It's not until much later, when Tooru moves to pick up his phone, that he realizes the call is still connected. Hanamaki and Matsukawa, having witnessed something "so cheesy it made me want to vomit" - "here, here", never let them live this down.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, find me on [tumblr](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com) and send me a [prompt](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com/post/151809670505/sentence-dialogue-drabble-prompts) if you feel like it, or drop me a message if you want to chat and talk (or scream or cry) about anything! :D  
> I'm really glad for your support!


	9. IWAOI, "You're really drunk right now"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “…and h-have you seen his legs? Like, damn, who wouldn’t wanna f-” Iwaizumi interrupts himself with a hiccup, and slams his hand down on the table. “…‘n then he waited s-so damn long because he thought I wouldn’t like him? Seriously?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my lovely tumblr anon for this prompt, I had a blast :D
> 
> "[Dialogue 7](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com/post/151809670505/sentence-dialogue-drabble-prompts), IwaOi, with Iwa being the drunk one" - you got it!
> 
> "You're really drunk right now."  
> "No I'm not, you're just blurry."

Oikawa doesn’t know what he was expecting when he entered the bar, heading for their usual spot near the back.

He knows he’s even later than anticipated, but this is _so_ not what he thought he’d walk in on.

“…and h-have you seen his _legs_? Like, damn, who wouldn’t wanna f-” Iwaizumi interrupts himself with a hiccup, and slams his hand down on the table. “…‘n then he waited s-so damn long because he thought _I wouldn’t like him_? Seriously?”

Oikawa steps up to the table, incredulity spreading across his face. Matsukawa notices him and waves, evidently trying hard not to burst out laughing. Oikawa sees Hanamaki holding up his phone, and at Matsukawa’s nudge he grins over at the newcomer and gives him a thumbs up.

“I mean,” Iwaizumi continues, very involved in the conversation they’re apparently having, “I was s-sure he knew that ev'ryone with eyes had a cr- a crush on him. He could’ve had ‘nyone, y'know? And he p-picked me?!”

“…yup, pretty unbelievable,” Hanamaki supplies, before going back to biting his lip to refrain from laughing.

Oikawa is rooted to the spot, still fully dressed in his coat, hat and scarf, and stares at his boyfriend, dumbstruck. “Wow, okay. You’re _really_ drunk right now.”

Iwaizumi giggles (giggles!) and leans forward against the table. “No, ’m not,” he slurs, “you’re jus’ really blurry.”

Hanamaki blurts out a laugh before slapping his own hands over his mouth, and Oikawa makes a mental note to thank him later because Iwaizumi has started mumbling again, “…I gotta find- y- d'you know where Tooru is?”

Oikawa opens his mouth but Matsukawa is faster, he reaches over and takes Iwaizumi’s hand and nods at him. “He’s right here, look! Just arrived.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes follow the direction Matsukawa is pointing in and focus on Oikawa, who tilts his head a little and smiles.

“Hey, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi’s face lights up like they’d just won nationals.

“Tooru, hey, hey-”

He nearly trips over himself as he tries to stand up, and Hanamaki’s hand shoots up to steady him.

“Whoa, okay, watch it-”

“Tooru, I need-”

Iwaizumi stumbles around the table, grabbing Matsukawa’s shoulder for support, and practically throws himself into Oikawa’s arms.

Oikawa staggers back under his weight, a nervous laugh tearing from his throat. “I-Iwa-chan?”

But Iwaizumi doesn’t seem to be listening anymore, he’s burying his face in the crook of Oikawa’s neck and breathing him in, his entire body relaxing against Oikawa’s.

“Hey, are you okay? What did they make you drink, huh?”

He looks over to find Matsukawa and Hanamaki grinning widely.

“Us? We’d never!”

“We totally didn’t order him more cocktails than he can handle, who do you think we are?”

Iwaizumi giggles again, and he manages to disentangle himself for long enough to give Oikawa a wide smile.

“One of them was _pink_ , Tooru! L-like Makki’s hair!”

Oikawa raises his eyebrows as Hanamaki descends into a fit of silent giggles.

“…why?” he asks, turning his eyes on Matsukawa.

“Those who are late shall be punished,” Matsukawa says simply, grinning.

“But I’m not the one who’s gonna have a skull-splitting headache tomorrow-”

“Tooruuu,” Iwaizumi whines, tugging at his shirt when he realizes that Oikawa’s attention isn’t on him anymore. “W-why’re you so laaate?”

“No,” Matsukawa agrees, as Oikawa threads his fingers absent-mindedly through Iwaizumi’s hair, making him sigh and nuzzle closer again, “but you’re the one who’ll have to deal with an Iwaizumi who regrets all his life choices. And you can be sure we’ll be mailing him these videos. You will _suffer._ ”

Oikawa groans. “No fair, Mattsun-”

“Also you’re not getting them,” Hanamaki supplies, evidently over his giggling, but still grinning widely. “That’s your punishment. I have at least twenty minutes’ worth of dear Iwa-chan talking about how much he loves you, and you’ll never lay eyes on that footage.”

“Makki-”

“Tooooruuuu,” Iwaizumi says, louder this time.

“…what is it, Iwa-chan?”

Hanamaki lifts his phone a little higher just in time to capture Oikawa’s face as Iwaizumi pulls back and says: “D'you know how much I love you?”

Oikawa nearly chokes, staring at him in disbelief. “Uh-”

“Guess,” Iwaizumi says, and he squeezes Oikawa’s arms through his coat.

Oikawa is sure he’s blushing scarlet, and the knowledge that Hanamaki is recording all this doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.

“Uhm. I don’t- I don’t know? …a lot, I hope?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes actually focus on Oikawa’s, and for a second, he looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and what he’s saying. And then his goofy grin is back.

“M-more than volleyball,” he says happily, and Oikawa’s heart jumps up into his throat. But Iwaizumi isn’t done. “M-more than when y-you hit a spike just right 'n destroy the other team’s block. More than beating Ushiwaka. M-more than _anything_. More-”

But Oikawa can’t take another second of this - he surges forward and throws his arms around Iwaizumi, burying his burning face in his shoulder with a wail that drowns out even Hanamaki’s and Matsukawa’s laughter.

This time Iwaizumi is the one who staggers back, fingers twisting into Oikawa’s coat, and they lose their balance, toppling over on top of each other.

Oikawa groans and pulls back, finding himself somehow in Iwaizumi’s lap, who looks strangely unperturbed by this whole situation and is still beaming up at him, his eyes practically sparkling.

“Y-you know I say ’m annoyed when you complain too much 'n stuff but I’m actually not? I love listenin’ to you. 'N I l-love when you surprise me, 'n kiss me in front of ev'ryone, even though I pretend I don’t like it. B-because then ev'ryone knows that you’re mi-”

He stops himself and his eyes widen, like he’s just realized something. “Oh, y-you can’t tell Oikawa! He’ll m-make fun of me, 'n use it against me for sure! Tooru, you gotta promise you won’t tell him-”

But the rest of his sentence is lost under Hanamaki’s hysterical laughter, and Oikawa swears this conversation just robbed him of ten years of his life.

~

It’s not until he shows Iwaizumi the videos the next morning though (and Iwaizumi buries himself in his sweater and refuses to resurface for all of ten minutes as he apparently goes through all five stages of grief, mourning the loss of his dignity) that Oikawa fully appreciates the value of Hanamaki’s filming skills. He opts for calling him right away and telling him that he’s the best friend he could ever have hoped for - at which Iwaizumi’s head pops back up and he actually pouts, muttering: “I thought I was your best friend.”

Oikawa stares at him blankly for all of five seconds before he very rudely hangs up on Hanamaki, drops his phone and lunges at Iwaizumi with a scream, knocking him over onto the bed and proceeding to pepper kisses all over his face.

“Oh my god, Oikawa, remind me why I’m dating you-”

“Because you _love me_ ,” Oikawa trills, thoroughly enjoying himself. “You _love me,_ and you want everyone to know it-”

“Well what’s wrong with that?” Iwaizumi cuts in, defensive despite the angry blush all over his face. “It’s not like you didn’t know that?”

Oikawa beams. “But now you’ve said it!”

Iwaizumi shakes his head and mutters: “I can’t believe I let them get me that drunk. I can’t believe _you_ let them get me that drunk!”

“Aw, Iwa-chan, we all knew you were just too shy to admit how starstruck you are from dating me-”

“That’s not an excuse for letting them humiliate me!”

He pushes him off and sits up, but Oikawa is still beaming as he follows suit.

“Ah, but you didn’t deny it!”

Iwaizumi groans and buries his face in his hands.

“See, this is why I don’t _say_ things like that! This is why I don’t tell you you look adorable when you sleep, or that I couldn’t stop staring at your hands-”

“Ooh, you like my hands, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi throws his arms up in surrender, and Oikawa flops sideways into his lap, chortling gleefully.

“Ahhh, you should get drunk more often!” he says, grinning up at him.

“…most certainly not,” Iwaizumi says, but he lets his arms drop and starts threading his fingers through Oikawa’s hair.

And then, almost as an afterthought, he adds: “…it’s so soft. How do you get it so goddamn soft?!”

The most smug and delighted expression he has probably ever worn in his entire life stretches across Oikawa’s face.

“You love me,” he says, practically glowing.

“…you know, I thought you were insufferable before, but this just takes the cake.”

“You loooove me,” he repeats, reaching up and poking Iwaizumi’s cheek.

“Oh my god, Oikawa.”

“You’re not denying it! You love me, and my legs and my hands and my hair-”

Iwaizumi shuts him up by bending over and smashing their lips together, hard.

“Stupid, ridiculous Shittykawa,” he mumbles angrily, and Oikawa cackles.

“You’re _adorable_!”

“Shut up.”

“So sappy and mushy and disgusting, Iwa-chan-”

“Please, please shut up-”

“Who knew you were so in _love-_ ”

“I swear to God, I will _end_ you-”

But Oikawa just laughs, huffing out air into Iwaizumi’s face. “Oh, you’d never! You’d be miserable without me!”

Iwaizumi stares at him for a moment, frowning, before he gives up and folds down over him, resting his head on Oikawa’s chest.

“…just, please. You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?”

Oikawa laughs again, easy and light.

“Never.”

“Great,” Iwaizumi says with a sigh, even as he pulls Oikawa closer and hides his face in his shirt. “Just great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading (as always), I'd love to hear what you thought!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com), talk to me!


	10. IWAOI "I'm sorry"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hasn't changed. 
> 
> It's only been three weeks, why would he have? He hasn't, and Oikawa's chest grows tight at the thought. He hasn't changed, but everything else has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for Jasper, thank you for the prompt!!
> 
> " _hm so how about iwaoi with kiss #6? it's a perfect mixture, hurt-comfort, no?_ " - indeed it is!!
> 
> [#6: "I'm sorry" kiss], no warnings for this one except that it's hurt/comfort so there will be angst ^^

_It's him._

Oikawa knows, by all logic and everything his senses are telling him, that this is really happening - it's just that his brain hasn't caught up yet.

It's cold, and that's what brings him back to reality first. It's cold, because the wind is blowing snow inside, and he's only wearing socks.

The door is half-open, only as far as he'd managed to pull it before he'd frozen in place at the sight of the person who'd knocked.

_Why?_

The wind is all he hears, too, as he stands face to face with him in silence, both of them unmoving, lost, staring.

There's a tension here that's palpable, and that Oikawa has no words for.

_It's him._

"...hi."

He hasn't changed.

It's only been three weeks, why would he have? He hasn't, and Oikawa's chest grows tight at the thought. He hasn't changed, but everything else has.

_Hi...?_

The side of his mouth twitches ever so slightly, into something that no one who doesn't know him would call a smile - oh, but Oikawa knows him, he knows, and that tug, paired with a somewhat sheepish glance to the floor and a hand that rubs over the back of his neck... it's everything.

It's too late, he realizes. He's already falling. The fact that he's here is enough, really, to send him spiraling, but that little smile-

He finds his voice.

"...Iwa-chan?"

Iwaizumi's eyes widen, just a fraction, almost unnoticeable, but of course Oikawa sees. He'd spent the last few weeks they'd been together watching for exactly this kind of sign, trying to read him, trying to figure out what was going wrong and how to fix it-

But Iwaizumi had been cold, closed off, unapproachable. Lost, Oikawa had realized. And then, only a few days later... gone.

_And you took everything, Hajime, everything, the air from my lungs, the light from my life - the beating heart from inside my chest. Everything._

And now he's standing right here.

Oikawa hates that he knows exactly how long it's been - they'd never gone a week without seeing each other before, not since they'd met, and Iwaizumi's absence has always been like a gigantic black hole beside him whenever they were forced to part, even before they'd crossed the boundaries of friendship, even before Oikawa learned what it means to love someone so much that it physically hurts.

_It hurts now._

Iwaizumi's surprise feels almost like his own - Oikawa has gone just as long as him without hearing that name pass his lips.

He recovers quickly, blinking away whatever memories, whatever thoughts the name triggered, and focuses on Oikawa.

"...hey," he says, like that's an explanation, like it'll solve all their problems.

_"There are no problems, Oikawa, okay? This isn't- you can't fix this. Us. I'm sorry."_

_Sorry._

He's too numb to cry - there aren't any tears left. All he has now is hope, because that's what's left when everything else is crushed.

His stupid, stupid hope, and a wary hesitation that comes after being hurt.

_How did you know? To come right now, right as I was losing myself? How are you everything I'll ever want? How is your face all I see, your touch all I crave?_

The questions cloud his mind, like they're trying to force their way out. There's too many to count.

He chooses the most immediate one.

"...what are you doing here?"

Iwaizumi sighs, shifting his weight. He looks cold, and Oikawa can feel his own feet start to sting. The door is still half-open, and the wind's not letting up.

"I..."

He stops, glancing up at Oikawa for a moment, before he tries again. "...I don't know."

Oikawa exhales, and his breath forms tiny white tufts in the air.

_I don’t know. All I know is you, you you you you you. I bleed, and every drop of it is for you._

"I... needed to see you," he adds, and Oikawa catches the quiet cry in his eyes, the pain under the soft, apologetic smile. "...I knew you probably wouldn't let me in, but- I just..."

Oikawa realizes he's biting his lip - he's probably just as easy to read as Iwaizumi is. He's probably even worse. And then-

"I almost- I was forgetting what your face looks like," Iwaizumi says.

It shatters.

"Look, Oikawa-"

"I still love you."

His voice sounds foreign, like it's someone else speaking from inside him. But now that he's said it, he can't take it back.

_And it's true._

_Of course I still love you. I'll always love you. I don't know who I am without you._

_"I'm sorry, Tooru."_

Iwaizumi heaves a breath that sounds shaky, labored - and that's all the warning Oikawa gets before there are arms wrapped around him, tight enough to bruise, and his face is buried in Iwaizumi's chest.

He still smells the same, too.

It seems Oikawa does have tears left.

"Tooru," Iwaizumi's saying, "Tooru, Tooru, Tooru," and he's shaking, but his grip never wavers.

It's always been like this. Even when he breaks, he holds him up. Even when he's drowning, it's Oikawa he pushes to the surface.

Suddenly, it makes sense.

Oikawa pulls back, forcing a distance between them that he doesn't want, but he has to know-

"When you left," he says, and the words feel like daggers, even as he drags his sleeve over his face to try to stop the tears, "when you- was that-"

Iwaizumi is biting his lip, like he knows what's coming, like he knows Oikawa has figured it out. His fingers tighten over Oikawa's wrist.

"...was it... because you thought that'd be... better for me?"

Iwaizumi's smile is small and sad and all wrong. It's like a blow to Oikawa's chest, like a well-aimed kick to his ribs, like a slap across his face.

_Don’t you understand?_

"I loved you more than-" _Everything. Anything._

Where to even begin?

"Hajime, I would have done anything for you," Oikawa whispers, "and you knew that, you knew - how could you leave me?"

Iwaizumi's breaths are strained, shaky, like he's barely holding it together. "You've got galaxies inside you, infinities, so much more than anyone I know. And I'm- I'm not eno-"

But Oikawa slaps his hand over his mouth, eyes suddenly fierce and furious.

"No," he says, and the tears are back. Iwaizumi's eyes widen. "No, Hajime. No."

He's trying to pull away, trying to speak, but Oikawa isn't having it.

"Fuck, no. _Not enough?!_ Do you have any idea- do you know how these last weeks felt?!"

He's raising his voice now, even though he didn't mean to. He lets go, turns around and walks inside - he needs to get away from the cold, away from this train of thought, away-

"Like nothing had a point anymore...?"

Oikawa stops, already feeling fresh tears on his face, and when he looks back, Iwaizumi is standing in the door frame, arms wrapped around himself, and such a lost look on his face that Oikawa wants nothing more but to kiss him until he forgets everything he's afraid of. Until he sees that there's no way for them to be apart.

_"This is the last time I'll walk through this door. I'm sorry."_

And yet, he's here now. It feels heavy. Inevitable.

"Like someone had drained all the color," Oikawa says. "Without you, nothing makes sense. It's like losing- like losing the biggest part of myself."

He takes a moment, blinking through his tears, before he can look up at Iwaizumi - and God, the expression on his face is indescribable.

He crosses the room in two strides and backs Iwaizumi into the door, which slams closed behind them, finally shutting out the cold. Hands braced on either side of his head, Oikawa exhales right into his complicated face, but even now he can't really be angry. Despite everything, the strongest feeling inside him is still _oh, oh, thank goodness you're here._

"...do you love me?"

Iwaizumi is definitely crying now. "...Tooru-"

"Do you?"

Iwaizumi actually laughs, through his tears, through everything. The sound is short, unexpected - and oh, how Oikawa has longed for it. It feels like it's been years since he's heard it.

"...do I love you?" Iwaizumi repeats, like it's the most ridiculous question anyone has ever asked him. "...tell me, is the earth still spinning?"

_Oh, oh-_

"Tooru, that's like asking if my heart's still beating."

_But say it, say it-_

"The day I stop loving you is the day I die."

He couldn't have waited another second, even if he'd wanted to.

When he presses their lips together, it doesn't feel like all the pieces have fallen back into place. It still feels broken, and the pain in his chest doesn't vanish. But when he pulls back, when he presses their foreheads together and tears streak both their cheeks - the fear is gone.

Iwaizumi lets out a small, wet sound, something between a laugh and a sob, and Oikawa's heart lurches in his chest.

_Anything._

"Tooru."

He kisses him again, not letting him talk, not letting himself be grounded just yet.

"Tooru, love-"

Iwaizumi breaks away this time, and something in his eyes makes Oikawa stop and listen. They're so close that he can feel Iwaizumi's every breath against his chest, and the frantic beating of his own heart is loud in his ears.

"...yes?"

He sounds as breathless as he feels, and his mind is on a loop of anything, anything, anything. Iwaizumi smiles, as best he can manage with his face a complete mess, and brings their lips together for a third time. His movements are slow, deliberate, and he brings a hand up to cup Oikawa's cheek. When he pulls away, Oikawa can't help but gasp.

Iwaizumi runs his thumb over Oikawa's cheek, catching his tears.

"I'm so sorry."

_I know. I know. But please-_

"...I'm so sorry, Tooru. I was scared, and instead of talking to you, I ran." He sighs, letting his fingers trail back into Oikawa’s hair, fiddling with the strands. “Can you- can you forgive me?”

And there isn’t a question. Not really. Not ever.

Oikawa closes the distance between them, threading his own fingers through Iwaizumi’s hair and pushing him up against the door as he kisses him, hard. When he pulls away, their lips are bruised, but he feels like the void inside him is being filled.

_"Can you forgive me?"_

He lets out a breath, and the rest of the tension goes with it.

"I forgave you the moment you walked through that door."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! And sorry it's been so long since I last uploaded a thing... the beginning of my year hasn't exactly been a walk in the park. I also apologize if this makes little sense, I haven't been sleeping well (or much at all) and that's taking its toll ^^' If something feels weird, please tell me and I'll go back and correct it.  
> I hope to be back soon!! In the meantime, feel free to yell at me for this angst on [tumblr](frenchibi.tumblr.com) or in the comments :D


	11. IWAOI "Control"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! It's been a while since I've posted a drabble here :')  
> This week I was supposed to update _Look To The Sky_ but I couldn't get it done in time, so I'm posting this instead - if you follow me on tumblr you've already seen this and I know it's kind of cheating on this "post every week" idea but it's better than nothing, right? ...right?  
>  Well. I'll try and have other things finished soon to make up for the lack of a proper chapter this week.  
> Cheers!

> There isn’t much more to life than the choices you make.
> 
> Even in the moments you can’t influence, it’s what you do with them, how you react, that shapes who you are.
> 
> It’s whether you let your impulses tie you down, or whether you stand above them.
> 
> It’s _control_.

“That’s stupid,” Hajime says. Tooru frowns.

“I never said it wasn’t stupid, Iwa-chan. Life is like that.”

“No,” Hajime says, putting down his pen. “I mean, your conclusion is stupid.”

“...how.”

Now it’s Hajime’s turn to frown. “Well,” he says, folding his arms on the tabletop, “because you’re assuming that control is the most important thing.”

Tooru raises his eyebrows. “If we didn’t control our nature, there’d be no way for society to work. There’d be no public decency, no proper communication-”

“Not what I meant. Obviously some form of control is necessary. But what about instinct? What about trusting your senses instead of trying to beat them out with logic?”

He takes one look at Tooru’s disgruntled expression before sighing. “Take volleyball, for example.”

“Yeah? That just proves my point. Unless you have /talent/” - he spits out the word like it’s hurting his tongue - “you need control. You need precision and dedication.”

Hajime shakes his head. “No one’s born with absolute knowledge. Instinct is something you polish. Talent is something you… make bloom, if you will. Some people just learn faster than others.”

Tooru pushes his lip forward in a pout. “How unnecessarily poetic, Iwa-chan.”

“You asked me for help, Shittykawa. Take it or leave it.”

“I’m not gonna rewrite the whole thing! Besides, what you said isn’t all that different from my original thought - you’re just using different words!”

Hajime shrugs. “Whatever you say. Just telling you my opinion, here.”

“Maybe you’re right about volleyball,” Tooru grumbles (loss still prominent in his mind, but accompanied by a drive to improve that’s stronger than anything, a restless determination that’s making him itch to have a ball between his fingers again). “But… that’s not true everywhere.”

Hajime ponders for a moment, leaning back in his chair.

“I think it is,” he says eventually. “You can’t just… stomp out your emotions completely.”

Tooru shakes his head. “I’m choosing to be with you. For example.”

Hajime snorts. “Very romantic. Making it sound like a chore.”

“Not what I meant!”

“Hm.”

They lapse into silence for a couple seconds, with Tooru looking over at Hajime defiantly.

Loving him is a choice. Staying with him is, too.

“Still,” Hajime says finally, and as if he’d read Tooru’s mind, “you wouldn’t have considered being with me if you didn’t have feelings first. Also-”

He leans across the table and presses a kiss to Tooru’s lips, brief but firm, before he pulls back and settles into his seat again.

“...I do hope you’re not just kissing back because you’re choosing to, but because you _want_ to.”

“I’m choosing to _because_ I want to!” Tooru says indignantly.

A grin slides across Hajime’s face. “So are you _above your impulses_ then? Because it sounds to me like you’re indulging them.”

“Oh my god, Iwa-chan. Shut up.”

“I love you, too. And I know you’re gonna rewrite this because you’re a goddamn perfectionist.”

“I said _shut up_.”

(He is.)

(He does.)

(Hajime watches and laughs.)

(Tooru lets himself kiss him, anyway.)


	12. EnnoYachi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK, A NEW PAIRING???  
> idk man I had feelings and this just happened ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Hey, Yachi-san!“

Hitoka turns, the stack of books in her arms swaying precariously. She can barely look over it, and shuffles around a bit to prevent them from falling. “Uh?”

She feels someone approaching, and then, suddenly, part of the weight she’s carrying is lifted out of the way and she finds herself looking up into Tanaka’s grinning face.

“Oh, T-Tanaka-san! Hi!”

“Let us help you with that,” he says, and (of course) leaves Hitoka no room to argue as Nishinoya steps out from behind him and takes the other half of the stack of books from her hands.

“Thank you, Tanaka-san, Noya-san,” she says, knowing better than to argue. She does reach up and take the clipboard back, though, before it slips off the stack that Tanaka is carrying.

“Where to, Yacchan?” Nishinoya asks, sporting a matching grin.

“Ah – the staff room,” she says. “But really, you don’t have to-”

“Not a problem,” Tanaka announces, blatantly ignoring her protests. She shakes her head a little.

“Okay. Thank you,” she says again. “I might’ve had trouble delivering them on time.”

They set off together, with Hitoka sandwiched between the two third-years.

“So,” Nishinoya says, as they’re approaching the first staircase, “practice starts again tomorrow! Will you be there?”

Hitoka smiles, clutching the clipboard to her chest. “Of course! I’m excited to be your manager this year, too!”

Tanaka hums, shifting his weight. “It’s gonna be weird without Daichi-san and the others.”

“Yeah,” Nishinoya says, “I miss Kiyoko-san, and Suga-san, and Asahi…”

“But,” Hitoka says, trying to fight the sadness she can feel building already, “but we’re getting a bunch of new people, too! You’re the senpais this year, and they’ll all be looking to you for guidance!”

At this, Nishinoya puffs out his chest a little. “That’s true!”

“Right!” Tanaka agrees. “Plus – I have faith in our new captain!”

Hitoka nods, trying to fight the blush that she  _ knows _ is spreading across her cheeks. Nishinoya lets out a cheer, earning him a bunch of disapproving glances, but as usual, he doesn’t pay them any mind.

“Chikara’s gonna do a fantastic job!”

“Hell yeah!” Tanaka says enthusiastically.

“Aaah, I’m fired up now!” Nishinoya says. “Race you to the staff room, Ryuu!”

“Ah, wait-”

But of course now that they’re like this, they don’t even hear her anymore. Hitoka is helpless but to watch them exchange smirks and then immediately take off at full speed down the hall, other students jumping out of their way.

Hitoka sighs, glancing down at the clipboard in her hands. She’ll have to catch up with them.

“At this rate, they’re gonna get suspended before the season even starts,” a voice says from behind her.

Hitoka jumps a little, turning around in time to see the new Karasuno volleyball captain step up beside her. He shakes his head ever so slightly in the direction the other two have run off to before smiling down at her.

“Ah- E-Ennoshita-san,” she stammers, eyes darting up to his face before she looks down at her shoes, cursing her nerves and the color creeping up her neck. “I’m s-sorry, I tried to stop them-”

Ennoshita lets out a soft laugh. “Don’t worry about it. There was nothing you could have done – those two are incorrigible.”

Hitoka is helpless but to nod, fingers clenching around the clipboard.

“Oh, you’re on duty today?” Ennoshita asks, eyes catching on it.

“Ah, yes – I was supposed to carry some books up to the staff room, and Nishinoya-san and Tanaka-san offered to help me…”

“…and now they’ve run off. Typical,” Ennoshita says with a sigh. He glances up at the clock in the center of the hallway, and then back down at her. “You should probably get back to class. I’ll take that upstairs for you – I gotta go there anyway, and I might as well reprimand our troublemakers while I’m at it.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay, I can-”

“C’mon,” Ennoshita says, giving her another smile. “You’re doing hard work for the club, too – let me help you out a bit. The captain and the manager – we’re supposed to be a team, right?”

Hitoka’s eyes grow wide, and she’s pretty sure her face is scarlet by now. “Ah- uhm, okay,” she says, chancing a brief glance up at his face. “T-thank you, Enno- Ennoshita-san.”

“Anytime,” he says, and she hands over the clipboard. “I’ll try and find them before they break something again. See you at practice, Yacchan!”

And with that, he’s off, jogging down the hall towards the next staircase, leaving Hitoka fighting back a smile, a pleasant, warm feeling rising in her chest.

“Yeah,” she mutters, watching him disappear around the corner, “see you at practice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!!  
> [tumblr.](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com)


	13. IWAOI slow dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♦: Slow dancing (from [here](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com/post/160838152560/nonsexual-acts-of-intimacy-select-from-the))  
> I'm always taking prompts!! (I mean I just wrote this one because I felt like it lmao)

It’s calm. Soft.

They’re in the kitchen, standing side by side at the sink. Tooru’s got his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and is cleaning the last few dishes, arms a little blotchy from the hot water.

There’s music spilling from the radio on the counter, soothing and light, and Tooru is humming along and swaying his hips ever so slightly, brushing against Hajime’s from time to time.

Hajime takes the plate that Tooru holds out to him and begins to dry it, small smile teasing at his lips.

It’s so calm, somehow, like a moment taken out of the usual rush of their lives. It’s nice.

The evening sun filters through the window to their left, bathing Tooru in soft, golden light.

Hajime’s hands still and he finds himself watching him, drawn to his glow like he’s always been, from the moment they met, years and years and years ago.

He’d been blinded, back then. Tooru was never quite as ethereal, quite as unbelievable as Hajime perceived him at first - he soon learned that his friend cried messy, heavy rivers, that he could rise and scream and scorn and hate with more passion than Hajime had ever seen in anyone.

But that’s what makes him perfect, Hajime thinks, in these tiny, soft moments he gets to share with him. He gets to stand beside the hurricane and watch him conquer - but Tooru has so many more sides that no one else knows. 

Like the way his face softens when he smiles, the genuine, real and happy smile that reaches his eyes and makes Hajime want to pepper his skin with kisses. Or the way his body arches under Hajime’s fingers - he knows just where to touch, to kiss, how to love him right until he comes apart beneath him, blushing and breathless and elated. The way he’ll lean into Hajime or embrace him at the most unexpected times; on the couch, waiting in line at their favorite café, meeting with friends… or when they’re out shopping, for a walk, in the shower, or on the roof, with a blanket of stars spread out above them.

Hajime takes all these moments and treasures them, holding them close to his heart. It’s his,  _ his, _ and he couldn’t be happier.

“Iwa-chan?”

Tooru’s voice brings him back - he’s holding out the last plate, eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “You still with me?”

Hajime lowers his hands, setting down the dish and the towel he’s holding and leaning in, closing the distance between them and pressing a chaste kiss to Tooru’s lips.

Tooru blinks, and then a smile breaks across his face. “What was that for?”

Hajime smiles, too, and shrugs. “...’cause I can,” he says, turning his attention back to the half-dried plate.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Tooru’s still watching him, and his smile lingers.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru says finally, quietly, lowering the plate back into the water.

“Hm?”

Hajime turns back to him, and is met with another kiss, a little more firm and determined than before. He chuckles into it, and Tooru lets out a tiny, elated laugh.

“...dance with me,” he says, then, and holds out his hand. It’s still wet, but Hajime honestly doesn’t care right now, even as the droplets that start trickling down his arm when he links their fingers, tangling them together.

“‘m not good at dancing,” he says, because he feels he has to - but he already knows he’s going to cave, because it’s Tooru who asked. He’s already pulling him close, anyway, like it’s an instinct, and bringing up his other arm to Tooru’s waist.

Tooru smiles like he’s won (he has) and steps in close, until their chests are only inches apart.

“...sure it’s not just cuddling you want?” Hajime whispers, pressing their foreheads together. But of course he’s hopeless, already gently starting to spin them around, in time with the slow song washing over them from the radio.

Tooru huffs out another laugh, and it’s like it lights up the room. “...can’t I have both?” he asks, with a grin that says he  _ knows _ he can.

“Idiot,” Hajime says fondly, before closing the distance and kissing him again.

Tooru beams. “It’s more fun this way.”

“...you like seeing how helpless I am, huh.”

At this he rolls his eyes, taking a step to speed up their pace just a little. “Think you got that backwards, Iwa-chan.”

Not wanting to be outdone, Hajime tightens his grip around Tooru’s waist and tugs him closer, making him squawk in surprise.

“It’s not a contest,” he mumbles. (Not really, anyway.)

“It’s not?” Tooru parrots, feigning surprise. “But I’m sure I was winning! I definitely love you more, Iwa-chan!”

“Highly unlikely.”

“Positive.”

“Impossible.”

“Oh, yeah?” The corners of Tooru’s lips are twitching upwards, he can’t hold it back for very much longer, but Hajime forces a serious expression onto his own face.

“Yeah,” he says, “I’ve been hopeless since the beginning.”

Tooru’s grin is radiant, breathtaking, and just as hopelessly gone as Hajime feels. Warmth spreads through his chest.

“Me, too,” Tooru breathes, leaning in so he can rest his head against Hajime’s shoulder. Almost on instinct, Hajime untangles their fingers and runs his hand up into Tooru’s hair, lazily tousled and messy, the way Hajime likes it best.

“There’s no way you win this one,” he mumbles, breathing him in. “None at all.”

“Then we’ll have to settle for a draw,” Tooru whispers back, nudging Hajime’s neck with his nose, “‘cause I love you  _ ridiculously much. _ More than anything, or anyone.”

Hajime squeezes him close at the waist. They’ve stopped moving, with Tooru backed up against the counter behind him, dishes and towels forgotten by the sink.

“Endlessly,” Hajime tells him. “More every day.”

He feels the euphoria building in both of them, chest to chest, heart to heart. Too close, almost, but intoxicating. He’d do anything to keep this for the rest of his life.

“I love you,” Tooru says, muffled and into his shoulder, voice breaking just a tiny, tiny bit. “I love you, Hajime.”

He’s never heard anything more perfect.

“I adore you,” Hajime whispers back, unable to keep from sounding too choked up.

“Aw,” Tooru says, teasing, like he hasn’t got tears prickling behind his eyelids. “Are you  _ crying _ ?”

“Shut up,” Hajime mumbles, with no real impact. “Shut up and come here.”

“I’m already here, Iwa-chan.” He squeezes Hajime’s waist for emphasis.

“Closer,” Hajime says, like there is such a thing.  _ Closer. Closer, closer, closer. _

Tooru tightens his grip, and oh - there is.

What’s missing is  _ close enough. _

“...kinda doesn’t feel like enough, right?” Tooru mumbles. Always right there with him.

“‘S okay.”  _ You’re right. But it’s okay. _

“I get it though,” Tooru whispers, “promise. I know you. I  _ know _ you.”

_ I know what you’re feeling. I feel it, too. _

Hajime smiles, lips brushing Tooru’s temple. Yes, he does. He’s the only one who does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments keep me writing.  
> [Reblog this on tumblr?](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com/post/161017139565/slow-dancing-iwaoi-no-one-asked-for-this-but)


	14. IWAOI blanket fort cuddling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [♘: Cuddling in a blanket fort](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com/post/160838152560/nonsexual-acts-of-intimacy-select-from-the)  
>  requested by @alien-iwaoi on tumblr!! I needed something soft, so this was perfect :D

When Tooru comes home, the lights are off.

It’s so strange that he actually stops in the doorway, blinking into the darkness in confusion.

He’s sure Hajime is home, too, they’d texted only a couple of hours ago.

> _u home for dinner?_ _  
_ _ >want me to bring smth? _

_ >still got leftovers. later _

_ >ok <3 _

 

He’s never particularly articulate in texts, so Tooru didn’t think anything was wrong.

But the apartment’s dark.

“...Iwa-chan?” he asks, flicking on the light in the hall before closing the door behind him. “You here?”

He glances into the kitchen, finding it empty, and ducks his head into the living room.

Oh.

 

[A memory flashes at him out of nowhere, of one of the worse days, of sitting in his room, back at his parents’ house, blinds closed, refusing even sunlight.

The dark is comforting, sometimes. It hides the tears.

And then there’s Hajime, stubbornly knocking on the door until Tooru unlocks it. Trying to coax him out.]

 

Tooru crouches down in front of the shape on the couch.

He’s hugging his knees, with his face buried in his arms.

“Hajime?”

 

[“Tooru. Hey.”

“Go away, Iwa-chan.”

Half-hearted. Empty. Tired.]

 

Hajime shifts, without a sound, barely noticeable. Just far enough to peek up at Tooru without lifting his head.

Even in the dark, the only light in the hallway, his eyes look red and swollen.

Tooru’s heart stutters.

“Hey,” he whispers, “...did something happen, love? Are you hurt?”

Hajime shakes his head, just so, but his face twists, brow furrowing, eyes filling with tears.

“...just a bad day?” Tooru prompts, nerves fluttering, reaching out a tentative hand to touch Hajime’s knee.

Immensely relieved when he doesn’t pull away.

He just shrugs.

 

[“You don’t have to talk,” Hajime says. “But let me open the window.”

“No,” Tooru mumbles. He doesn’t even care he’s being petulant. Nothing matters. Nothing. Not even Iwa-chan, right then. Nothing.]

 

“...do you want to talk about it?” Tooru asks softly, fingers lightly tracing Hajime’s skin.

He shakes his head again, minute, barely noticeable.

 

[Hajime, standing up, letting out a soft sigh. “Okay.”]

 

_Okay?_

...and then Tooru remembers what happened next.

“Just a sec,” he says, before getting to his feet.

Something stops him from walking away - Hajime’s hand, suddenly holding his wrist.

_Don’t go._

Tooru feels his entire posture soften, tension falling away. He reaches down, squeezes back.

“...s’okay, Iwa-chan. I’ll be right back. Just getting some blankets. Okay?”

Hajime swallows down a sob, turns it into a heavy breath, nothing more, but Tooru sees his shoulders shake.

He nods, once.

Tooru leans in and presses a kiss to Hajime’s hair, quick and gentle. “Just hang on.”

 

[“No lights,” Tooru mumbles, even though he’d been dead set on ignoring Hajime. It won’t help, anyway. He should just leave.

“...not even these?”]

 

Tooru ducks into the bedroom, dropping to his knees and reaching under the bed, not bothering with the lights.

He finds the box easily enough, fitting it under his arm before grabbing hold of the two large pillows and the comforter. Not enough, but he knows there’s more blankets piled on their armchair, where they usually sit, curled up together by the window. Reading to each other, more often than not, with Hajime’s hand slowly carding through Tooru’s hair.

Soft. Calm. _Home._

Tooru lets the tiny smile the thought brings stretch over his face. Hajime is always comforting him. This should work.

He drops the things he’s carrying on the carpet at Hajime’s feet before moving to push aside the couch table. Hajime doesn’t budge, but Tooru can tell that he’s listening, by the set of his shoulders, the tension in his legs.

He slips into the kitchen next, grabbing the two bar stools at the counter and carrying them over to the living room, setting them down on either side of where Hajime is sitting. Then he gets one of the blankets from the armchair and spreads it on the floor in front of the couch.

“Iwa-chan,” he says, reaching out to touch his arm. “... move down here for me, love?”

Hajime hesitates, breath going slow, but finally, finally he slowly unwraps his arms, revealing the rest of his face.

“...where?” he whispers, hoarse and shaky.

Tooru gives him a smile, taking hold of his hands. “Just here,” he says, “right here,” gesturing to the floor in front of him.

Hajime glances at the chairs, eyes surely also taking in the pile of pillows beside him. His eyebrows rise just slightly, and maybe, maybe that’s the hint of a twitch of his lips. Maybe.

“...what are you doing?” he asks, voice raspy. But he asks.

Tooru pulls him down until he’s sitting cross-legged on the blanket, leaning back against the sofa slightly. He ponders his answer for a moment, before he says: “...making it better.”

Hajime huffs out a breath - it’s not quite a laugh, barely there, but it’s better than apathy, and Tooru takes it.

He leaves Hajime to sit and wait while he arranges the pillows around him. He might be fussing a bit more than necessary, but Hajime is at least looking at him now, letting out the occasional heavier breath that’s almost a chuckle, almost amused.

Tooru shakes out one of the larger blankets, arms stretched wide before he spreads it over the two stools, leaving one end to trail over the couch seats. He ducks underneath the small tent he’s made with another blanket under his arm, and reaches past Hajime to bunch it up behind him, to keep the upper one in place. Hajime shifts, then, almost imperceptibly, so his forehead brushes Tooru’s arm.

“Be right there,” Tooru promises, pulling back. It’s not quite done.

 

[There’s the sound of a plug being stuck in the socket, and even through his closed eyes, Tooru notices the soft glow. Not bright enough to be sunlight, or even the lamp on his desk.

Slowly, reluctantly, he opens his eyes.

Hajime, smile as gentle as it gets, standing just a few feet away, arms full of tiny, glowing bulbs.]

 

He drags the string of fairy lights out of their box and fits the plug into the socket by the hallway, as close as he can get to where Hajime is. The bulbs light up with a pleasant orange glow, flickering to life.

He smiles at the memory, and at the many that follow after.

They’ve come through so much. This, he knows how to fix.

He unravels the cable, lifting his arms and draping the lights over the top of the fort, so their soft light reaches the inside in nothing more than tiny spots, like stars on their ceiling.

Hajime gasps, barely audible. Tooru fights back a smile.

 

[“...oh,” he whispers.

Just-

Oh.]

 

Tooru grabs the comforter, tugging it behind him as he drops down to his knees and finally crawls into the fort, pulling it up so it covers them both. Hajime stretches out his legs, making room, eyes wide.

“...remember?” Tooru whispers, settling in beside him, their shoulders brushing.

 

[“...thought you might like these,” Hajime says, and it could be a trick of the light, so close to his face, but it looks like he’s blushing.

 _Oh._ ]

 

“...’course I remember,” Hajime whispers, and his voice breaks on the last word. Tooru shifts, then, pulling him down, re-adjusting the pillows until they’re both lying down, until he can open his arms and Hajime ducks underneath, into his chest, burying his face in the crook of Tooru’s neck. He exhales in a shudder that carries through his entire body, and it’s like all the tension that was left seeps out of him then, leaving him to melt into Tooru’s embrace.

“I’ve got you,” Tooru mumbles, bringing his arms up around him. Hajime burrows closer, entwining their legs, fingers clenching over Tooru’s shirt. He might be crying again, small hiccups interrupting his breaths.

Tooru waits him out, holds him close. Knows that he’ll talk if he needs to. That he trusts him.

 

[Hajime, stepping closer, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face.

“...reminded me of you,” he says, with a shrug that’s supposed to be nonchalant, maybe, but his eyes give him away.

He’s been thinking about this for a long time.

“...you saying I’m like stars, Iwa-chan?” Tooru whispers, in spite of himself. He already feels the emptiness fading, replaced by something fuzzy and warm.

He doesn’t hold out his hands, but he doesn’t stop Hajime either when he reaches the edge of the bed and drops the lights over Tooru’s head, tangling him up in them.

Hajime huffs out a laugh, fingers brushing Tooru’s hair.

“...glowing,” he says, like that explains everything.

Glowing.]

 

“...Tooru.”

He shifts, lips brushing Hajime’s forehead.

“Hm?”

“...today fucking sucked.”

His voice is still small, but there’s just a hint of indignation there, too. _It’s gonna be okay._

“Yeah?”

Hajime hums, but doesn’t elaborate. He shifts his weight, nuzzling closer, lets out a sigh. And then-

“Tooru?”

“Yeah?”

He shuffles closer, pressing a kiss to his collar bone. Not much, just a brush of his lips.

“...thank you.”

It’s enough.


	15. IWAOI apocalypse AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From an anonymous prompt on tumblr; ♟: Patching up a wound and ♥: Reacting to the other one crying about something.  
> These screamed an AU that I have been planning for like half a year but not written yet - an apocalypse AU!!

“...it stopped bleeding,” Tooru whispers, like he can’t quite believe it himself.

Hajime looks down between them, and he’s inclined to agree - he’d thought, for a terrible moment, that he might not make it. An injury like this means the end - they’ve left people behind for less.

_Tooru, listen. I need you to know, if- if this is it, then I need you to know-_

“It s-stopped,” Tooru says again, a tiny, incredulous laugh bubbling over his lips. “You’re- you’re gonna be okay.”

Hajime exhales, heavier than he might like. _Okay. It’s okay._

Nothing is ever okay, not anymore. But the word still helps, still feels more real when Tooru says it.

He squeezes Tooru’s hand - what is there to say? This was luck, stupid, unbelievable luck. Surreal. _Terrifying._

Tooru squeezes back, looking up to finally meet his gaze.

“Iwa, Iwa- I thought-”

Ah, there it is - catching up, now, taking the place of the high-functioning, focused person Tooru becomes when everyone else shuts down.

Saved his life.

He doesn’t have to say it, what he thought. Hajime knows, because those same fears tear through him whenever Tooru is out of sight, whenever they’re not on the same mission, whenever they’re not touching, lately.

To love is weakness, in the world this has become.

_Leave them behind._

Hajime knows he’d sooner die.

He might’ve said it to Tooru, before this whole mess started - “I’d follow you anywhere” or the whole “perfect trust” thing, which he denied when Tooru was obnoxious about it, only to confirm it later, when Tooru’s hands clenched at his sides, heavy with doubt. But now he’s realizing the weight of those words, with families torn apart and friends turned to enemies around them.

He knows what it means. And he stands by it.

He’d go through hell for Tooru - fuck, at this point he probably has. And he’d do it again, if he knew it’d save him.

So no, Tooru doesn’t have to put words to the fear that must be gripping him at his very core, spreading through his veins like poison. _Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, please, please, not like this, not yet._

“I’m fine,” he says, firm and steady, though he knows his arms are shaking and he can barely feel his leg, doused heavily in leaves and this strange sap that numbs and heals, though they have yet to understand why. _I’m fine,_ because he has no choice. Fight or die.

 _Fine._ Because Tooru needs to hear it. He needs it to be true.

He’s shaking his head, now, grip like a vice over Hajime’s fingers, bringing them up against his own chest and curling over them, a broken sob tearing from his throat.

“Tooru-”

“ _I can’t lose you,_ ” he croaks in a tiny, wrecked voice, tears finally pouring down his cheeks, and Hajime’s heart shatters into a million pieces. “Anyone but you. _Hajime-_ ”

He can’t take any more of this, can’t take the pain in his eyes, in the way he shakes, in the tightness of his grip-

Hajime pulls him close, then, crushes him against his chest so their racing hearts align.

“I’m still here,” he says, because this is what they have. “I’m here.”

Tooru wraps his arms around him, tight and just as desperate, fingernails already leaving marks over his back. Hajime welcomes the pain - it feels real, like something he can grasp.

“ _Hajime,_ ” Tooru whispers again, fear and hope all in one. “ _Hajime, Hajime-_ ”

All he can do is hold on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I know it's still confusing :') Would anyone be interested in reading a full fic for this? Because I do have Ideas. ^^  
>  Let me know what you thought, please!
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr.](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com)


	16. IWAOI - Iwa's birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a little something for Iwa's birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be real with you - I strongly dislike this fic. I'm posting it to prove a point. Sorry for... all the salt. There's so many good writers in the hq fandom rn and I don't think there's any point in me continuing what I've been doing - I feel pretty superfluous and sub-par. So... yeah.
> 
> This is kinda nsfw but not really. Anyway.

On June 10th, Hajime wakes to a warm weight on his chest, and to a familiar scent all around him. It’s calm, and more comforting than Hajime would ever have imagined - it takes him a moment to orient himself, to place this moment in the context of  _ here  _ and  _ now.  _

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru mumbles, pressing closer, exhaling against Hajime’s chest.

Ah, yes.

He becomes aware of the fact that they’re both naked, skin against skin, and immediately feels himself blushing, even as he reflexively tightens his grip to bring Tooru in closer. It’s an instinct, at this point, and waking up like this is routine, even though every morning still feels special. Exciting.

“Hey,” he whispers back, and he can’t even pretend to hide the soft happiness in his voice. He squeezes his arms around Tooru, presses his lips to his hair, and feels his heart soar as Tooru nuzzles into him with a contented sigh.

“...happy birthday,” he says, breath tickling Hajime’s neck.

“Ah,” Hajime says, brain slowly catching up. “...thank you.”

_ Don’t plan anything for Saturday, Iwa-chan! You’re mine for the entire day, deal with it! _

Like there’s any present he’d rather get than an entire day with Tooru.

Well. He’s sure Tooru knows that, anyway. And there’s no use asking what he’s got planned, because Tooru is big on surprises.

“You know,” Tooru whispers, lifting his head just a tiny bit so he can gaze at Hajime, “this is… I used to dream about this. Waking up with you.”

Hajime lets out a tiny chuckle, joy bubbling up inside him.

“Yeah?”

“Mmh. But this is…” he hesitates, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Then, after a moment’s pause, he cranes his neck and leans up. Hajime lifts a hand, cupping the back of his head as he pulls him closer and brings their lips together. It’s soft, lazy - even so, he can’t help but be reminded of the night before, when their kisses had been much more hurried and desperate. He really gets everything.

Tooru hums into his mouth, parting their lips.

“Hm - this is better,” Tooru finishes. “So much better.”

“...yeah? Sure I can live up to your standards…?” Hajime whispers.

Tooru scoffs, leaning in to kiss him again. “You’re already surpassing every- every fantasy, Hajime.”

“...fantasies, huh?” Hajime says with a smirk. “Really?”

Tooru has the decency to blush, just a little. “...’course,” he mumbles. “I’ve always been- you know. Thinking about you.”

The admission sparks definite interest in Hajime’s gut, sharp enough to break through the soft haze that waking up with Tooru always has him in. It’s unfair, really, that Tooru always has him wrapped around his finger that way, even after years of being together.

“...yeah?”

And of course Tooru hears the new roughness in his voice, then. Hajime can hear him smile, even as he rolls his hips down against Hajime’s, making him gasp.

“Mhm. Thinking about how it’d feel if- if you kissed me, touched me.”

“Tooru-”   
“...about all the things I wanna do to you,” Tooru says. 

Hajime knows when the time for arguing has passed - Tooru’s fingers are brushing lower, feather-light and warm, and he shudders at the touch.

“...don’t- don’t we have places to be...?” he asks, a last attempt at keeping them on whatever schedule Tooru has planned out for them - but even as he asks this, his fingers are already digging into Tooru’s skin, nails leaving small half-moon prints in their wake.

“Later,” Tooru tells him, into the tiny space between their lips. “Planned for this, too, of course.”

Hajime lets out a laugh, brief and elated.

“Of course,” he echoes, tugging Tooru closer, one hand finding its way into his hair.

“Mhm. Let me take care of you.”

And really, who is Hajime to decline?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com).


	17. BOKURO head scratches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♚: head scratches from [here](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com/post/160838152560/nonsexual-acts-of-intimacy-select-from-the). Different ship for a change. It's not much, but here you go ^^

All things considered, Bokuto acts a lot more like a cat than Kuroo does.

It’s funny, really, that within their group of friends, Kuroo’s still got that branding - it stuck, from back in high school, and it’s not like he minds, but... well.

Sitting the way he is now, with Bokuto’s head in his lap and his fingers tangled in his hair, he can’t help but think that maybe Bo should have been the cat. Who knows, Kuroo might’ve made a pretty good owl.

When he tells Bo as much, he gets a confused hum in reply. “Why’re you thinking about that?”

Kuroo shrugs, fingers getting caught a little as he drags them back through Bo’s white strands. His roots are slowly starting to show again, but Kuroo almost likes it better that way. It’s more dramatic, somehow. Suits him.

“...’s not an answer,” Bo mumbles, but he leans into the touch.

Kuroo smiles, readjusting his legs just a little, so Bo doesn’t have to crane his neck so much. “I was just thinking,” he says, “that you’re pretty… cat-like. Sometimes.”

Bo lets out a half-laugh, and Kuroo is absolutely in love with how his nose scrunches up and his eyebrows draw together.

“What, you mean like this?” he asks, turning his head and rubbing his nose against Kuroo’s stomach.

Kuroo  _ giggles _ , helplessly folding over Bo as he tries not to laugh or shake him too much, “Hey, that’s not fair-”

And then Bo has the  _ audacity _ to grin and  _ purr, _ nuzzling into Kuroo’s skin and bringing arm up around his back to make sure he can’t get away.

“Bo- Bo, please, h-have mercy-”

“Mercy? Don’t know her,” Bo mumbles, holding still just long enough so Kuroo can hear what he’s saying before he resumes his movement - and then, suddenly, he’s licking Kuroo’s stomach.

Kuroo shrieks in surprise, and this time he actually pushes Bo off - not on purpose, really, it’s a knee-jerk response to the unexpected sensation of  _ tongue on skin. _

Bo catches himself before he falls off the couch, giggling a bit. “...mercy, he says. Please.”

“I’m st-still here, you know?” Kuroo gasps, catching breaths between laughter.

“I can see that,” Bo says with a grin. “Yer hard to miss, Tetsu.”

Kuroo shoots him a look - but then his own grin is back as well. “Did I taste good, at least?”

Bo shrugs. “Couldn’t tell - you didn’t let me be cat long enough to get a proper taste.”

“You’ll have enough opportunities to rectify that,” Kuroo says, and christ, he can’t seem to fight the blush there. Bo’s always gonna make him weak.

Bo’s eyes widen a little.

“Oho?”

“Mhm,” Kuroo confirms. “Now get back in here, I wasn’t done petting you. No more licking though, please, or I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Bokuto snorts. “Cats always land on their paws, right? Try me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com).


	18. IWAOI - "unbreakable kiss" (apocalypse AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Unbreakable Kiss - The type of kiss that really shouldn’t be happening, it’s a mistake, but you just can’t find yourself able to pull away."
> 
> Prompt from [[here]](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com/post/160739637584/types-of-kisses-prompts). Thank you to Taera for sending it! :D
> 
> I decided to write more for my apocalypse AU!!

“Wait!”

He turns, shocked at the urgency in Tooru’s voice, afraid of more bad news, more tragedy that could be right around the corner-

“What’s wrong?” he asks, eyes scanning him, catching on his clenched fists - there wasn’t enough time, he hadn’t made  _ sure _ he was unharmed, well enough to keep going, well enough to come out of this alive-

“There’s- I have to tell you something, Iwa-chan.”

The look in his eyes says more than words could, it’s open, vulnerable, and Hajime reads everything there - every unspoken thing between them, every feeling, every hope and fear.

“The truth is,” Tooru says, and Hajime is already shaking his head, “wait-”

“I’ve always been in love with you.”

The words shatter everything, every tentative wall Hajime has built up over the last few weeks, every last bit of resolve to keep distance between them, because it’s safer in this world not to love, not to care. His eyes go wide before he can stop himself, and he knows, he  _ knows  _ Tooru sees the truth there, now.

_ I love you, too. _

“God damn it, why  _ now _ ? Fuck, Tooru, why couldn’t you wait, why couldn’t-”

But he’s cut off by a pair of very determined, (very soft, very warm) lips pressing against his own.

“Because,” Tooru says, and Hajime feels every word, every damn intake of breath, “I’ve been waiting so long and we- we might not make it through this and-”

_ “No,”  _ Hajime says sharply, pressing closer even though he shouldn’t, he  _ shouldn’t- _ “Don’t even fucking suggest that. We’re going to be fine. We have to be.”   
“Hajime-”

And oh, it stings, hearing his given name now, here, when everything might be over in a heartbeat-

“I’m not losing you,” Hajime says, fingers gripping Tooru’s arms hard enough to leave marks. “Not now, not ever. You hear me? We’re getting through this.”

Tooru shakes his head, tears pooling in his eyes, and Hajime shakes him in turn, “no,  _ no!  _ You don’t get to tell me this and then die! I’m  _ not losing you!  _ Especially not now, not when I only just found you!”

“Iwa- there’s no way we can win-”

“We’ll find one!”

“But-”

“No.  _ No.  _ You don’t get to give up. You’re not giving up! We’re getting out of this. I swear it. You just have to trust me, and keep going. I’ll be right here.”   
The tears have started streaming down Tooru’s cheeks, silent and heavy, from eyes filled with fear, and he’s still shaking his head-

“You need to snap out of this,  _ now.  _ There’s no way I’m abandoning the person I love more than my life- don’t ask me to do that, because I can’t-”

“Hajime,  _ listen!”  _ Tooru’s voice shakes, but he’s gripping the hem of Hajime’s shirt, tugging, looking down - Hajime follows his gaze, confused-

And then he sees-

And his eyes widen-

“Tooru-”

“You have to go,” Tooru whispers, even as the tears keep flowing. “Iwa-chan- H-Hajime, I love you, I love you, you have to- you have to go-”

Hajime forces his eyes up, forces himself to look at Tooru’s face as he feels tears trickling over his own skin now, too. Forces his eyes away from Tooru’s knee, from the blood oozing out behind the brace.

“...you can’t run,” he whispers.

Tooru shudders, like saying it out loud is what makes it real, not the pain he’s surely feeling, not the fear or the adrenaline.

He just grips Hajime tighter, fingers grasping at skin, still unsure but desperate,  _ scared. _

“You can get out,” he says, voice breaking, “without me, you can- you can save yourself, and all of this will have been worth it-”

“No,” Hajime says, and he’s turning away, shaking his head, “no, no, no-”

“Hajime!”

He snaps out of it when Tooru raises his voice, freezing in place with a dark, terrible realization slowly creeping up to him.

“Hajime,” Tooru sobs, “please-  _ please,  _ you have to live, you have to- you have to go on without me-”

“What’s the point?” Hajime says, turning back to face him, arms wide, “what’s the point if you’re not there with me?”

Tooru looks like he’s kicked him, startled,  _ pained, _ “You’ll be  _ alive,  _ out there and alive instead of dead in here with me. You’ll find a way out of this hell, I know you will-”

“No-”

“Hajime-”   
“No. There has to be another way.”   
Tooru lets out something that might have been a laugh, if it wasn’t so torn up and bleeding with regret. “Look at me. I can barely  _ stand.  _ I can’t be a burden to you, I-”

“You’re not-”

“I won’t be what gets you killed!”

And he’s raised his voice to a shout, startling Hajime into silence - and outside, it starts to rain.

They both turn, trained to react to the smallest sound, suddenly on high alert. Hajime’s eyes flick to the door, the windows, check of leaks. Tooru’s go up to the ceiling, to the place that’s cracked.

“...too late,” he whispers, and Hajime looks back at him, fingers finding his and squeezing.

“It’s never too late.”

“...this house won’t last.”

“We should check for a basement. There might be a hidden one.”

“You don’t know if it’s waterproof.”   
“Tooru. Hey.”

Tooru turns back to him, and only then he seems to realize that he’s shaking.

“We’re getting through this.”

He shakes his head, flinching at the sound of thunder overhead.

“...you saw what the water does, same as I did.”

“This house has lasted this long. It could still hold out.”

“Hajime-”

“I love you,” Hajime says, at it feels like the biggest relief in the world to say it out loud. “I love you - and that means I’m never giving up. Not ever. Not until I’m dead.”

Tooru bites his lip, shoulders shaking. He’s running out of tears.

“I wish things were different.”

Hajime closes his eyes for a moment. They don’t talk about before - about a world that’s gone now, swallowed by the earth reclaiming its territory. They don’t speak of lives lost and chances missed.

The past is a blur he barely remembers - but the warmth, that will always stay. He recalls it in the small, scarce moments he and Tooru have shared since they found each other again, remembers when Tooru’s arms are wrapped around him tightly enough to bruise, when he wakes from fitful sleep and nightmares to Tooru’s face right beside him.

It’s all they have left now. Memories.

He squeezes Tooru’s hand.

And each other.

“I’m never giving up,” he repeats, and he feels new fire fueling his resolve, a new certainty rising where despair used to live. “Not as long as I have something to fight for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com) here, as always (I redid my theme for desktop - I'd love to hear your thoughs!!) - and now I also have a [ko-fi account](http://ko-fi.com/frenchibi)!! So if you like my work, consider buying me a coffee? That'd be amazing :D


	19. Iwaoi - apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't happy, I'm sorry. It's very angsty.
> 
> Written for prompt 31 from [here](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com/post/162627784495/which-member-of-your-otp); "which member of your otp apologizes first".

The room is quiet.

It’s not unusual - they often share a space without talking, content to just exist together (after such a long time wishing, wanting-)

But this is different.

This is awkward and uncomfortable, and Tooru has just about had more of it than he can take.

But he’s not moving. He stays where he is, feet drawn up to his chest on the couch, glaring at the can of beer on the coffee table in front of him.

_ Stupid Iwa-chan. _

The thing is, it’s probably not Hajime’s fault. At all.

They’ve been arguing a lot lately, about tiny things; raised voices and clenched fists where laughter and soft touches used to be.

He supposes it makes sense - they’re still figuring out how to fit together again after years of being apart, still testing limits and trying to find ways to coexist. There’s friction. It’s natural.

Just-

Tooru wishes he could look past these disagreements like he used to back in high school. Stop taking every word that passed Hajime’s lips as seriously as possible, stop being offended at the little jabs, stop overreacting, stop complaining-

Everything’s just getting harder, somehow, even though now they were supposed to finally get  _ better. _

_ I’ve always loved you, Iwa-chan. Always. _

_...took us long enough. _

It  _ hurts. _

He drags his sleeve across his face in angry defiance of the tears he can feel burning behind his eyelids.

He should apologize, right? Try and fix this.

Tooru chances a glance across the room, to where Hajime is sitting, in the armchair furthest away from him.

Glaring at his hands, eyebrows furrowed into a frown.

Tooru turns his attention to his own, clasped together on his knees.

He can’t do it.

He can’t always be the one, every time, to break the silence. He can’t always be the one to say sorry, can’t keep carrying  _ I messed up _ and  _ please forgive me. _

He can’t be the only one who wants this.

But it’s on him, right? He’s wrong to overreact, wrong to be possessive and jealous and unstable.

He should be trying harder.

Hajime deserves better.

“Tooru.”   
He starts at the sound of his name, blinking and raising his head to find Hajime standing in front of him.

“...listen,” he says, the sound gruff and chapped.

“...what?”

Hajime chews at his lower lip for a moment, pulling it into his mouth and releasing it again. Tooru’s fingers are clenched tight over his knees.

“...I’m sorry,” Hajime says, averting his eyes before they dart right back up to meet Tooru’s.

It’s not what he’s expecting, so he has no words to reply. He just stares.

“...just. I thought about what you said, and… you’re right. I’m sorry.”

Tooru blinks.

“Oh.”

Hajime lets out a little huff that’s almost a laugh. “Yeah. Uhm. I was just… I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking. And you’re right - if it’d been you, I’d have wanted to rip that girl’s head off. But- you have to understand, I just… it hurt me. That you’d think I’d ever- ...you know I wouldn’t. You  _ know. _ That’s… that’s why I got so upset.”

He looks down, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I… don’t like this. I don’t like that we keep fighting.”

Tooru exhales against the tension in his shoulders, harsh and uneasy.

“...me neither.”

He swallows the second part of what he wants to say,  _ I wish you weren’t this close to her, _ because who is he to tell Hajime who to hang out with and who not to? They still each have their own lives, their own friends.

“...don’t you trust me?”

That’s unfair, Tooru thinks, cruel and unfair. But maybe, maybe he deserves it.

He looks down. “...of course I do.”

Hajime sighs. “So why does it bother you so much that I’m meeting her?”

_ Because I don’t trust her. _

_ Because I don’t like her. _

_ Because she could take you away from me. _

_ Because I want you with me. _

_ Because I’m selfish and possessive and I need you here. _

“...I don’t know.”

Hajime looks at him with that way he has, direct and like he can see right through Tooru’s walls.

_ Not these. You’re not supposed to see through these. _

“...I’m tired of this, Tooru.”

It’s like the ground’s being ripped out from under him - his stomach drops, and he forgets how to breathe.

_ Oh, no, no no nono- _

“...oh.”

_ No, please, no- _

The silence between them stretches again, and Hajime runs his hand over his face in frustration. 

“Just - I thought we were okay, you know?”

“We  _ are!”  _ Tooru insists, unclenching his legs as panic rises in his chest - like saying it will make it true, like denying it now will fix everything, “we’re fine, really, I just overreacted, it’s fine-”

“Stop,” Hajime says. “Please.”

Tooru clamps his mouth shut.

“Listen, Tooru, I- I don’t want you to freak out, but… this needs to stop. I don’t want to keep dealing with -” he gestures helplessly - “whatever this is.”

He moves, then, to sit beside Tooru on the sofa - and he’s never felt further away.

“I’m not… telling you this to freak you out. Just… can we move past this? Can… can we just be  _ us  _ again?”

Tooru realizes that he’s got his arms wrapped around himself, already curling in again, closing off.

“...I know I’m too much,” he says, quiet and terrified.

“That’s not- that’s not what I said. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“I’m sorry.”

He must sound just as small as he feels, then, because Hajime sighs, heavier than ever.

“Tooru. This… this is important to me. I don’t want to do things that will upset you - but with this, I don’t… I don’t get it. There’s no reason for you to be afraid, or jealous. You know that. You  _ know _ that.”

“...sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. Look, just… just  _ talk  _ to me, okay? I can tell you’re upset, and of course I don’t want you to be. I know you don’t like her, but - she’s my colleague, and my friend, and I just- why can’t you just give her a chance? Why do you always close everything off as soon as her name comes up? Do you really feel that threatened by her?”

Tooru bites his lip. “I know it's stupid, I just-”

“I should be allowed to have other friends, too. It doesn't mean I care about you any less.” 

“I- I know that. I know. Just…”

Hajime watches him struggle for words, a small, helpless expression on his face.

“Look… I don't know what you want me to do, here. Am I not affectionate enough? Why is nothing I do ever enough for you?”

_ That's not true, that's not- _

_ “I'm tired of this.” _

Tooru shakes his head, helpless, tiny.

Hajime glances over at the clock and sighs. “I have to go. Will you be okay?” 

Tooru nods once, and keeps his lips pressed tightly together. What else can he say? 

Hajime watches him for a moment, and Tooru knows he still sees right through him. And a small, selfish, mean part of him wants to speak up and be honest.  _ Don't go. Don't leave me, not now.  _ He's still upset, even though he knows it's unfair. He shouldn't be. He has no right to be.

Maybe it's the biggest part of him. 

Hajime moves closer, and briefly presses his lips to Tooru’s forehead.

“...see you later,” he says. “...you're the one I want to come home to.” 

Tooru watches him leave, a heavy feeling sinking into his stomach. He wants to jump up, wants to follow him, beg him to stay. 

But he doesn't.

He doesn’t move from his seat for the longest time - not until the sun has long set, plunging the room into darkness, and the tear tracks have dried on his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is [here](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com), and I also have a ko-fi account - if you liked my work and want to support me, you can [buy me a coffee here.](https://ko-fi.com/A8403D38) I do also take requests.


	20. IWAOI distracting kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt from here](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com/post/164053455855/fictional-kiss-prompts), "19: kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing." Thank you @Gwen for sending this, it made me very happy <3  
>  No warnings for this one, it's just fluff. Enjoy ^^

To his credit - when Hajime sits himself down on the edge of his armchair, Tooru barely even flinches. Even though it’s the most uncharacteristic thing Hajime could be doing. Even though this is the first time _ever_ that Hajime has done something like this.

But, well. Hajime is desperate. Kind of.

Tooru has been staring at the book in his lap with an intensity that he usually reserves only for volleyball. He’s been at it for three hours - ever since he got home. And Hajime knows for a fact that, before that, he was staring at that same book in the library.

An intervention is necessary.

“Tooru.”

He reacts a little at the sound of his first name - a small flinch, tiny, but noticeable. Especially to Hajime, who is watching him like his life depends on it. _Score._

“...you need to rest.”

Tooru blinks, and keeps staring at the page.

“I know your exam is soon. But you need to cut yourself some slack.”

Tooru shakes his head, minute, almost invisible.

“I mean it. Come to bed.” Hajime hesitates for a second, then adds: “...please.”  
He’s fully aware that it’s unfair of him to resort to this _tone._ He’s not one to beg, not usually, not one to use pouting - that’s Tooru’s technique.

Tooru, who is now biting down on the inside of his cheek.

“Tooru. Come on.”

He’s not moving.

“...I miss you.”

He feels cruel - but it’s working, judging by how Tooru’s shoulders tense. He’s pretending that this isn’t affecting him, but Hajime knows. He’s cracking him.

“...Tooru. _Please.”_

And he leans in and presses a kiss to Tooru’s cheek.

Tooru’s eyes close on a blink that’s a little too long, like he’s steeling himself.

He turns a page.

Keeps reading.

_It’s on._

“C’mon, love,” he whispers, pressing his lips to Tooru’s cheek again and lingering there.

“Please. You need rest -” he moves down, brushing over Tooru’s jawline and leaving tiny kisses on his neck - “and I need you.”

Tooru bristles at that, barely concealing a shudder. He’s got his lower lip pulled into his mouth now, chewing it as he fights to keep his composure. But he’s also leaning into the touch, ever so slightly. _Got you._

“ _Babe,”_ Hajime says, knowing that he’s pushing it. “You’re not just gonna leave me in our cold bed on my own, are you? I _miss_ you.”

Tooru exhales a little too loudly.

“Let me take care of you. Just for a bit. I’ll be so good, I promise, so good-”

_“Ohmygod, Iwa-chan, stop!”_

He’s out of the chair in less than a second, leaving Hajime to barely catch himself before he falls off the armrest.

“You’re _terrible!”_ Tooru whines, but he’s caught and he _knows it,_ “terrible, awful, no-good, stupid, _distracting-”_

“You love it,” Hajime states, looking him up and down pointedly, “I’ve got you all bothered-”

“Of _course_ you have! What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Seducing me like that, that’s not _fair,_ Iwa-chan, not fair at all, you can’t just-”

He waves his arms helplessly, completely failing to fight the color that’s creeping up his neck.

“I thought you liked being the center of attention?”

Tooru looks just about ready to stomp his foot. “I _do!_ That’s why this isn’t fair! I have to finish this-”

“You’re overworking yourself,” Hajime cuts in, letting his other admission slide. “It’s late - you can keep reading that tomorrow. And I meant what I said. I miss you.” It’s poutier than he might like, but at this point he really doesn’t care. Tooru’s face is now furiously red, and that shouldn’t be so endearing, but it really is.

“Damn it, Iwa-chan,” he mumbles, “stop being _sensible,_ it’s annoying-”

“You know I’m right. Come to bed. Please.”

Tooru bites his lip again like he’s considering, but he’s already reaching for Hajime’s hand to pull him to his feet.

“...only if we cuddle,” he says, like that’s even a question. Like Hajime has ever, _ever_ pushed him away. Like he’s ever _not_ wanted to.

Hajime makes a show of tilting his head and considering the idea before he allows himself to be pulled up, a soft smile making its way onto his face.

“...that sounds reasonable.”

“And you let me study tomorrow.” Like Hajime is usually the one to interrupt and drape himself dramatically across Tooru’s lap to get his attention. Sure.

“Of course. As long as you rest, too.”

Tooru scowls, and it says “that’s wasting time,” clear as day.

“...fine. I’ll take short breaks.”

Hajime beams - he can’t help it - and quickly leans in to press a kiss to Tooru’s lips, short and chaste.

“Fantastic.”

“I hate you,” Tooru mumbles, even as he chases Hajime’s lips when he pulls away.

“Mmh, love you, too.”

When they break apart, there’s a grin slowly stretching across Tooru’s face. “...Iwa-chan said he loves me.”

“...I did.”

“And you missed me.”

“...yeah.”

“...and you _want me.”_

Hajime rolls his eyes. “Yes. Dumbass.”

“My ass is a gift,” Tooru says curtly, tugging Hajime towards the bedroom and swaying his hips a little more than necessary. It’s stupid and stupidly adorable and Hajime kind of wants to kiss him all over his dumb face.

Who knows, maybe he will.

“...sure it is.”

“You _want it.”_

Hajime yanks Tooru back by the arm, bringing them close together in the doorway, foreheads almost touching. “Don’t get cocky.”

Tooru smirks. “But you do!”

“Not as much as you want to be wrecked,” Hajime argues, “judging by your attitude.”

Tooru bristles, and the air between them feels electric with excitement, heavy with promise.

“Why don’t you come and find out?”

He takes the lead into the bedroom, because he always has to feel like everything was his idea, and maybe Hajime is fine with that right now. After all, he’s coming to bed - and that was the goal, anyway. The sass, Hajime can deal with. (And quickly, mind you. He knows just how to get Tooru to squirm and beg in under five minutes, and they both know it.)

Everything’s a contest - but Hajime knows this game. He knows how it’s played.

And overall, grinning as he closes the door behind them, he’d call this a win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Find me on tumblr](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com) (though I'm still on hiatus there rn, feel free to drop me asks or messages, I'll answer everything soon :) I also have a new theme for desktop that I'm really proud of, with an updates tab and everything? So... check it out if you feel like it ^^ And I also have art and cover songs on my blog that I've done!)  
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> Thank you for reading, and for your patience with me. I'm starting to do better, so I might be able to post more frequently again!


	21. Iwaoi - war's end kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> War's End Kiss - Prompt from [here](http://frenchibi.tumblr.com/post/163209076415/send-me-a-number-and-a-ship-and-ill-write-a), by anon on tumblr.
> 
> Warnings for this are as you'd expect - mentions of blood and death, but no severe damage to the main characters.

When the last soldier falls, Hajime is bent over his knees, heaving breaths that rattle in his lungs and don’t feel like he’s getting enough oxygen. The armour restricts his movements, he can barely feel his legs - but he hears the clang of a sword dropping to the ground, and a heavy thud-

And silence.

For a second he thinks he’s gone deaf, the roar and metallic collisions still ringing in his ears - but then he hears a breeze, the rustle of trees, the soft whistle of air passing through tight spaces and over their fighters, dead and alive alike.

Slowly, he raises his head.

There’s a few men around him, covered in blood and dirt. They’re wearing his colors.

There’s so, so many more on the ground, unmoving.

He turns, disbelief rising,  _ it can’t be over- _

All he sees is confused faces, much like his own. Furrowed brows, weary eyes. Raised weapons.

No enemies left.

The first soldier sheaths his sword, and the sound resonates through the valley.

“Is it over?”

“Is it?”

“Hey. Hey…?”

“I think-”

“Did we-”

“We won?”

The first man who yells it doesn’t sound like he believes it - but another hears his call and repeats it, louder, stronger, “we won, we WON!” and soon it’s ringing from all around them, and a cheer grows, uncertain and then louder, stronger, building and building until Hajime feels like his chest might explode.

_ We won. _

_ WE WON! _

_ … _

_ Tooru. _

Hajime drops his sword, spins around, nearly loses his balance.  _ Tooru. _ He’d lost sight of him before, told him last night to stick close, begged him,  _ I can’t lose you, not you, never you- _

He sees faces he knows, men he’s shared food and tents with, comrades, brothers-

_ Tooru- _

It’s so hard to move, his hands are already lifting the first clasp, undoing the belts, he needs the armour off, needs to  _ run, _ needs to find him, what if something’s  _ happened- _

_ You wouldn’t, you wouldn’t dare die on me, not now, not now that we’ve won- _

He drops the breast plate with a clatter, struggling with the chain mail underneath, already reaching for the clasps on his legs with the other hand. The morning air stings, the smell of death is  _ everywhere -  _ Hajime drops the rest and spins again, searching,  _ searching- _

“Hajime!”

Through the din, he’d know that voice  _ anywhere. _

He’s already running, heading straight for him, his own protective gear abandoned somewhere out of sight - there’s blood in his hair and dirt on his face, and Hajime can  _ see  _ the fatigue, but it doesn’t matter now, because there’s a spark in his eyes and a spring in his step and he’s  _ running- _

“Tooru, To-”

There’s no warning, no breath to be knocked out of him when they collide because he doesn’t have time to draw one. He trips backwards, but Tooru’s arms are like a cage, holding him, catching him, and he does the only thing he knows how - he squeezes back.

He smells of blood and sweat and, somewhere underneath all that,  _ home. _

They stand unmoving, and Hajime  _ knows _ the tears have come, knows before he feels them, knows with a certainty that’s almost painful, and he grips tighter, pulls closer, buries his face in the crook of Tooru’s neck, lips pressed against the skin rubbed red by armour.

“Hajime,” Tooru is gasping, over and over and over, “Hajime,  _ Hajime, Haji-” _

_ It’s okay, we’re okay, we’re okay- _

Hajime wants to tell him, but he doesn’t have words, everything’s gone and the sun is rising on the horizon. They’re here. They’ve won.

A new life.

“Tooru,” he chokes, all he knows, all he has,  _ Tooru, Tooru, alive, oh- _

He doesn’t know who moves in first - and honestly, it doesn’t matter, it’s over, they’re  _ free, _ they’re safe, and Tooru,  _ Tooru, _ all he’s ever loved - it’s not conscious, it just  _ is _ and when their lips collide Hajime knows, he knows that something that feels so right to him can’t feel wrong for Tooru, not like this, not when they’ve spent years and years and years dancing around each other, terrified to lose and terrified to get too close.

Tooru kisses him like he’s all that matters, and Hajime returns it tenfold because it’s the only truth he knows.

One of the first things you learn when you go to war is how to let go. Of everything. Memories, hopes, loved ones. They’ll tell you to hold on, but that makes it more painful. Better not to think of what you might lose. Let go. Everything goes but the  _ cause. _

It’s not hard to forget what you’re leaving behind when the only thing you care about is always with you.

“Hajime,” Tooru moans against his lips, winded, desperate. Hajime brings a hand up to cradle the back of his head, to hold him there - to find his own balance.

“Love you,” he says - it spills from his lips like nothing, like he’s been saying it all his life (he has, he  _ has, _ under his breath), like it’s just another phrase, but it’s  _ everything. _ “I love you, Tooru, I love you, I  _ love you-” _

Tooru lets out a laugh, breathless, relieved,  _ elated, _ “Oh, me too, I- Hajime,  _ always-” _

“Shit,” Hajime groans, and they’re kissing again, and his fingers are digging into Tooru’s skin and fisting into his hair and he can feel Tooru’s nails on his back and it’s too fast, too close, but it’s not  _ enough- _

“You’re alive, we’re  _ alive-” _

Hajime’s the one to drag them apart, bringing his palm up to wipe the tears from Tooru’s face. He can’t believe it either, not quite, not so easily - but hell if he isn’t going to hold on to this.

“Together,” he whispers, “finally, we’re okay, we’ve won-”

“I love you,” Tooru cuts in, like it’s bursting out of him, and his grip is like a vice, like he’s terrified Hajime might slip away. “Iw- Iwa-chan- Hajime- I love you, I-”

“I won’t let go,” Hajime promises, “never, Tooru, we’re here, we’re okay and we’re  _ together,  _ you’re everything-”

Tooru just keeps kissing him, his jaw, his neck, the corners of his mouth, like he can’t get enough, and Hajime feels that, too, like time’s been standing still and suddenly it’s ticking again, so close, too real, but it’s  _ here  _ and it’s his, it’s right here and he  _ loves- _

“Tooru, Tooru-”

“Mine,” Tooru says, “mine, mine, mine” and oh, he’s crying so hard now but Hajime catches and treasures every word, and he knows he must not be faring any better. So he nods, and he makes sure Tooru sees,  _ yes, yes, always, yours, don’t let go, don’t you ever dare let go. _

Somewhere along the line, their knees have given out and they’re on the ground, and it’s dirty and there’s still blood in Tooru’s hair and this is not at all the place Hajime wanted to be when they broke orbit and collided (because of course they would, naturally, one day, without fail), but he can’t bring himself to pull away.

Later, when they’ve stumbled off the battlefield, hand in hand - when their wounds have been patched up and when Hajime’s lips are numb from Tooru’s kisses, when they collapse onto his tiny bunk bed, finally leaving the smell of death behind - maybe Hajime’s heart will stop racing with the thrill of what he might have lost and what he’s won. Maybe he will calm down enough to fight the fear that’s still coursing through his veins, and the elation and relief that they’re both here, together,  _ alive.  _ Maybe he’ll be able to catch all of Tooru’s tears and help him battle his demons, the two of them against the dark. Maybe he’ll stop being terrified of waking up, alone and ruined. Maybe.

For now, though, all he can do is breathe in and hold on. And nothing on earth will stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) I gotta be real with you here - I just had surgery and I'm in a lot of pain and kind of not patient enough to re-read and edit this, so... if you find any glaring mistakes, please let me know :')  
> Life's been a mess but I think I'm handling it. Thank you for being so patient with me. I'm working my way through a bunch of prompts I got - and I'm always happy to get messages or comments on anything and everything. Please don't hesitate to contact me if you enjoyed my work (or if you have criticisms, of course!).  
> Find me on [tumblr](frenchibi.tumblr.com) or on [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/A8403D38) \- again, I'd be really grateful if you supported me a little in my work ^^ I put a lot of time and effort into my writing, after all!


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